


There's more to see, than can ever be seen

by miss_yellow_robes



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Has Self-Worth Issues, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Crossover characters - Freeform, Graphic Description of Wounds, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Magic Mirrors, Mundane Alec Lightwood, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pardon My Spanish, Raphael is not ace, Self-Hatred, Slow Build, Some fighting I guess??, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 66,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_yellow_robes/pseuds/miss_yellow_robes
Summary: What do we have?A curse that needs to be brokenA lost past that needs to be foundA hopeless man who must regain his faithAnd an aching heart that must move onOr the story of how Magnus predicted that a handsome stranger would free him from his curse, and that handsome stranger happened to be none other than Alexander Lightwood, dragged into a mess containing far too many complicated emotions, a fashionable vampire, two privacy invading friends and a ticking clock.





	1. Who thought the solution would be a grumpy man in a pink apron?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> Before reading this, we'd just like to clarify a few things about the universe we're writing in. First, we are mostly going from the TV series Shadowhunters, meaning some facts from the movie or the books will be ignored here. There are a few exceptions, such as Alec's eyes. We have chosen to keep them blue. Also, we should proboably warn you that Magnus is a sidecharacter only. 
> 
> Secondly, this story does not play out in the US, but is set in England. Now, neither of us are from England or the US, so some facts may be wrong about the environment. Those facts will be taken from our country in those cases, we appreciate help if you find such mistakes. 
> 
> Thirdly, this story was originally supposed to be Malec centred, but is now mostly Saphael, mainly because Alec is slow at realising shit. 
> 
> Also, this is an AU guys. The entire Valentine plot will be ignored, and some things might seem a bit off. But, we hope you enjoy this and that we can keep writing for as long as it takes to finish this fic!
> 
> Ps: writers love comments!!

Slowly he opened his eyes. At first, he couldn't see anything. But after blinking a few times, the red blur showing the ever ticking digits of his alarm clock came into vision. He blinked again. Lying on his side, with his comforter dragged up to his nose, the prospect of stepping up was… Well, not nice at least. He groaned and shoved his head as far into his pillow as he could. But after a while, after feeling his breath heating up his pillow and making it almost soggy, he pulled back his covers in one swift motion and practically jumped from his bed. Turning one last time towards his alarm, he turned it off before it even started. Putting it back down he started the journey that was his morning routine. Quickly, he dragged a hand through his hair, most likely making it even messier than before, whatever his intentions were.

While in his minuscule kitchen, the first thing he did was to fill the coffee pot. Alec could proudly say that he had almost no vices. He didn’t smoke, he didn’t drink, he had no sweet tooth and no junk food obsession. Neither was he one of those guys who did anything for the thrill. But what he did do? Was to drink copious amounts of coffee. But looking at his life, who could ever really blame him?

Sipping on his first cup of the day he went over to the neat dresser in his hallway to make sure everything was readily lying there for work. Satisfied, he drained his cup and headed to his bathroom instead. 20 minutes later his uniform was on, his hair a slight less mess and his breath smelling strongly of mint. Consider a second coffee cup, he stopped on his way to the door. But he quickly disregarded that thought, brought a water bottle from the fridge instead, and picked up his belongings in the hallway before heading out. Walking down the stairs from his apartment down to floor one, he barely thought anything, working only on autopilot. He was simply following the same routine he followed almost every morning of the week. In the same fashion, his legs moved on their own down to the bus stop. He glanced at his watch. 03.39. He watched it as it turned 03.40. Looking up he saw his bus approaching. Right on time, he smirked.

There were only three others standing and waiting patiently for the bus to roll in next to them. A woman clutching her purse tightly, a teen who seemed to be practically sleeping standing up and a man wearing a jacket that seemed to be worth more than Alec’s entire outfit. They stepped on, Alec who went last gave a quick nod to the bus driver, recognising him from some of this previous mornings.

All too quickly it seems the bus has reached his stop, and he goes off feeling the cold outside creep through his clothes. But he shakes his head, rolls his shoulders and moves on. Stepping in through the door he quickly blows on his fingers. They’ve gone colder than he’d thought. He was too quick to disregard his warmer clothes. It seems winter isn’t gone quite yet.

Greeting a few of his coworkers, he moves along until he finds Molly Hooper. Molly is his boss. She makes his schedule, she hands out his workload and she provides him with the necessary equipment to do his work. She is also, sort of, his friend.

Seeing her through the door to the storage room where all the mail was being stuffed, before it was shipped off with each postman(or in Alec’s case: bicycle messenger), he went right ahead and opened the door.

Hearing someone approaching she turned around, smiling when she realised who it was. “Hi, Alec!”   
“Hello, Molly.” Alec smiled back. He liked her. She was so very kind and open minded, bordering on naive. Wanting to help everyone. He felt an odd compulsion to protect her from the world.  
“Your shift doesn’t start in a few minutes, why are you here? Why not enjoy the coffee I made, with the others?” She made a small gesture toward the door leading back to the main building.   
“You know me. I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”   
“I know.” She tilted her head, looking up at him. She studied his face, looking for something. Apparently not finding anything, she turned around and pulled up a big stack of letters and newspapers. “Here.”   
Alec quickly took the big pile from her tiny arms. Smiling one last time at her, he headed towards where his bike was stored.

Quickly sorting down his cargo in the order he preferred, in the bags hanging off the sides and front of his bike, he headed out.

It was starting to become warmer outside, as the sun got closer to rising. But there were still a few hours left. Alec went down the familiar road that belonged to his ‘route’. A strong breeze caught his jacket briefly, leaving him with a chill going down his spine. Smiling, Alec let his legs push harder on the pedals, relishing in feeling alive before most people were even awake.

Delivering his quota would take two hours tops, usually less. After that he’d head home, shower, eat breakfast, probably drink one or two more cups of coffee and then study some. At 10 am, he’d need to head for his next job. At half past, his shift started at the bakery downtown. He’d stay until it’s over at half past four, drinking another few cups during that time, but most likely he’d stay and help out a little longer. Going home, he’d eat, drink coffee, study some more and go to sleep so he’d get at least six full hours of sleep until his alarm would go off the same time tomorrow morning. Or night. Depending on your perspective. Five days a week, Alec followed that same routine. Some might say his life was a nightmare of stress but to him? He felt alive, capable and strong. Proving himself every day. It was hard, but it was his life. His very own.

Alec smiled, following his route, and watching the sky turn pink.

  
____________________

  
Raphael hadn’t believed them when they’d told him. It had been so many years now. And for this person to turn up over two decades after they’d started searching for him, what were the odds? No. So he’d shaken his head, and asked them to leave, and later throw three glasses across the room in pure frustration. It had been so long. He missed him.

A few days later he searched them up and asked them to tell him what they’d found. If there was even the smallest chance he had to take it. When they told him they’d found a man matching the description they had been given, what choice did he have?

Raphael rarely left the Hotel Dumort. Not because he loved it or felt comfortable there, he didn’t, but because he lost the desire to go out, to meet humans. He’d lost his interest, his curiosity and his passion years ago. He saw no reason to leave, and so he didn’t. Unless his duties as Camille Belcourt’s second in command and representative of the London vampire clan asked him to. Therefore the task to go look up some mundane guy, who would probably not be the one he was looking for anyway, seemed pretty much like a major waste of time. But still, Raphael proceed. He had been told that the guy in question would be working at a mundane bakery until around 5 pm. It would still be light by then, but Raphael felt no doubt in him figuring it out. It was London after all, there were dark alleys, black corners and deep shadows everywhere. He didn’t expect any problems.

Discarding his suit when going through his closet, he settled on a look slightly less eye-catching. Something that would allow him to blend in better in the turmoil that was the streets of London in rush hour. Something more… “mundane”. Not that he would ever look like one of them, no, that was a long time ago. He’d changed since then, and quite fairly? He couldn’t understand the petty, little, human brains anymore. They had no perspective, always went for the thrill, never thinking long-term. And their clothes. One thing was sure, he didn’t buy his suits from any mundane designers.

Looking himself over in the mirror, and nodding in approval, he set out to the vibrant city, not yet dark. He mentally braced himself for the noises, the smells, the hundreds of impressions that would attack his mind the second he hit the bigger roads. But there was nothing to do. Taking a car or a cab in rush hour? He wasn’t stupid.

He followed the directions he’d been given until he found the rather large café squeezed in between two boring looking concrete buildings. From the café, a warm light was erupting from the huge windows and the door standing ajar. Signs were stood up outside, promising extra offers and a 10% off on all hot beverages if you bought a muffin with it. Raphael glanced at the pink sign above the door. In cursive letters stood:   
_Aunt M’s Muffins_   
He shuddered at the name. Somehow it sounded immensely ominous. And the amount of pink wasn’t helping.

He stood himself by the window, enjoying the shadow the building cast on him. He looked in at the personnel behind the counter feverishly serving customers, trying to find the one he’d come for. With no luck he huffed frustratedly, getting ready to leave. But then a door behind the counter opened and a man matching Raphael's description stepped out. He was dressed to leave, with a black jacket and a bag slung over his shoulders. He waved at the redheaded girl currently serving a mother and her three kids, before stepping out from behind the counter and heading straight for the door. Raphael stepped away and placed himself in a deep shadow, confident the darkness would hide him. He watched the man step out and walk in his direction. As he passed Raphael noticed his messy jet-black hair, his youthful features and his intense blue eyes.

If he really was the one Raphael had been searching for all these years, no wonder he hadn’t found him. He’d been too young. But he certainly matched the description. Everything seemed to be right.

Raphael watched him walk out from the shadows and into the late sun. Far too soon his silhouette had disappeared into the mass of bodies on the streets of London. Raphael had decided. This mundane was worth investigating.

-o-

Raphael was born 1937 in Mexico. London 2017 was a bit different. But he had adapted. Changed. There were many good things about the 21st century. The technology was certainly one. There were bad things too. Like the way people treated each other. Not just mundanes but young vampires, warlocks, seelies. All of them really. There had been bad things when Raphael grew up but people had cared for each other. Giving each other their time. Putting a greater weight on faith and honour. Today, no one seemed to care. That was something Raphael missed dearly. It was the 21st century and passionate people were being punished for being unique and feeling, instead told to fall in line, and be like everyone else. Being told not to care. In the bustle that was technology and advancement, so many walked through life without seeing the real world.

Sometimes, Raphael wished. For what, he wasn’t entirely sure.

But what he did know, was that Alexander was a busy man. Alexander Doe was the name of the mundane he had been following, it had taken a lot longer than he’d care to admit to actually figure out the guy’s surname. But in the end, he’d gotten it. He’d managed to find out a great deal other things about him during the three weeks he had acted as his shadow. He knew where he lived, where he worked, he knew his schedule which he seemed to follow almost flawlessly. This mundane was different from most other creatures of this time, he seemed not to care much for friends or company, nor of electronics and entertainment. All he did, really, was to follow the same routines every day. It was actually a bit puzzling.

But understanding this Alexander-guy was not important. All he needed to know was if this guy was the one he’d been told about all those years ago. And that, shouldn’t be too hard to find out. All that was needed was the right circumstances. Thinking, Raphael wondered if he was to create those himself or wait for an opportunity to arise on its own. But creating such a thing would require more of him than to simply observe. He shook his head, put on his jacket-of-the-day in one swift motion, and went out the door. It had been cloudy all day. Making his way to the same café he’d been spending almost every afternoon in lately, he thought about what he’d do if Alexander was who he thought he was.

He walked the entire way. He had no rush and walking never tired him. He took the small alleyways and minor roads he’d found during the three weeks walking forwards and backwards. The sky looked like a washed out shirt, as if it had lost its’ colours. The alleys didn’t smell great but at least there were fewer people there. He wouldn’t have to stand amongst them, smelling their strong body odours, and the even stronger artificial perfumes they used to hide it. Seeing the varying graffiti tags on the walls he sighed and picked up his pace.

He had hidden from the mundane in plain sight. He knew that the shadows would hide him if he asked them, and he knew the mundane wouldn’t notice him unless he wanted him too. As such, he had followed him everywhere the sun would allow him. He had taken the same bus in the mornings, been one of the customers he served, had been sitting idly observing from the darkest corners he could find. He had stood outside his apartment door, pretending to be a neighbour. And the man had never even noticed.

Raphael glanced at the awful pink sign above the door. How someone could ever decide that the name “Aunt M’s muffins” was good and not super-creepy, he really couldn’t comprehend. And then add all that pink and the cursive letters? It was just plain bad. Giving the sign one last wary look, he opened the door and stepped into the heat.

The place was obviously a bakery, doubling as a café. Due to that, most of the place was inaccessible to him, but he could still roam the cafeteria. The café was built up in an L-shape. When you entered the first thing you saw would be the counter and the huge shelf behind it filled with all kinds of bread. The counter displayed pastries and cakes, several with some kind of pink icing. The many shades, going from salmond and rose to punch and magenta made Raphael’s right eye twitch. He clenched his hands, as he took in the smell of the café. Perfumes belonging to the customers, the different sweet smells from the baked goods and the weak smell of sweat, coming off of the employees. He would prefer to sit in the backroom, due to the bigger privacy there, but since he needed to keep watch of the mundane his gaze settled on a small table in the corner, a window seat, but still with a clear shot of the counter and the door leading back, into the bakery. Knowing he’d be there a while, he walked up to the counter to order something. Caring less what he actually ordered and more that he ordered, he paid little attention to the menu above his head. As it became his turn he stepped up to the young redheaded woman standing there. Her cheeks were flushed and it seemed some strands of hair had escaped her ponytail at her temples. She gave him a quick smile and asked what he wanted. While debating what to order, if a beverage or some kind of food, a whiff came across him that immediately had him straightening up. Directly following came a curse to the left of him. Standing a little to the side of the woman was a young man about the same age. He had his back turned towards Raphael but he could still smell the blood.

The ginger gave him an apologetic smile before turning to the man at her side, whispering.

“What did you do?” Her gentle voice managed to sound both exasperated and amused at once.

“I… I think I cut myself?” He stuttered out a laugh.

“Oh Simon, how did you even manage that?”

“Papercut?”

“Simon…” The ginger sighed, but then put a hand on the man’s back, shoving him towards the door leading to the bakery. “There are band-aids in the personnel room, ok? Get that cleaned up.” Being confident he would be fine, the ginger turned back to Raphael.

“I am so sorry, he cut himself. What can I do for you?” Observing her, Raphael decided to give her a challenge.

“How about you surprise me? I want a hot beverage. Make it… sting.” The edge of his mouth turned upwards, at his own choice of words. The woman absently stroked away a strand of hair but smiled widely.

“I can do that. Small or standard? To stay or to bring?” Her teeth showed as she bit her lip gently, but her eyes gleamed. She was intrigued. Raphael only smiled back, lowering his voice slightly, he leant in. “Standard. To stay.”

The ginger blushed. She picked down a mug and wrote something quickly on a note. “Will that be all?” He nodded.

“Okay, I’ll bring it over to you. Will that work?” She looked up through her long eyelashes. Raphael laughed inside. Mundanes, all so flirty. All so eager. She didn’t even want him, didn’t desire him. But she liked the attention, liked the flirting itself. He leant back, giving a sharp nod and left to claim the table he’d already decided for. Walking away he could hear someone walking out from the back. Recognising the smell, he knew it was Alexander. He heard the ginger ask him about the drink she’d picked for Raphael. He didn’t seem to care if his huff was anything to go by.

Raphael settled down, preparing himself to wait. He stayed as long as Alexander decided to work over. And he almost always did. Within shortly, the redheaded woman came over and placed a cup in front of him. Smiling coyly she left. She stopped at a few tables to pick up used dishes, working her way back to the counter. It seemed Alexander had taken over the spot at the register, now serving two teens wearing jeans littered with holes. He shook his head at human fashion once more.

Putting those less important thoughts aside, he thought back to the smell that’d hit him when the friend of the barista had cut himself. It… had been tempting. Intoxicating. Made his mouth water. It was strange. Blood rarely had that reaction on him anymore. Sure he liked it, he needed it. But it was more an animalistic need for him, than an actual desire, an actual lust. But he couldn’t deny that the man’s blood had smelled heavenly. Picking up the cup, Raphael came to the conclusion that his isolation on Hotel Dumort had not only served to purify himself from the influence of humans, but also to make him forget all that he used to love. The simple task of enjoying blood had been lost to him. And now, breaking his self-inflicted seclusion, he started to remember again. To feel again. Or at least, it was the most logical reason to why that man’s blood had affected him the way it had. He refused to consider any other alternative.

Raphael brought the cup to his lips, relishing in the heat the cup spread through his cold hands. Carefully he sipped. He let out a small groan in surprise and pleasure, as the rich tones the coffee spread through his mouth. Vampires needed no nutrition, except blood. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy it still, if only for the taste. Raphael sent a glance towards the ginger now wiping tables, a look of newfound respect. If she could make drinks that good? Maybe she was an alright mundane after all. Taking another sip, he leant back, eyes returning to the dark-haired man at the register. Alexander Doe.

-o-

Going on his second hour at the café, Raphael brought forward his phone to check if anything required his assistance. Seeing he had no messages he stored it away again. He knew of a couple of vampires who were very invested in all that social media bullshit. He had himself never felt the attraction. It was a stupid idea anyhow. Being immortal meant having to keep one's identity a secret as you outlived your supposed “age”. Good luck doing that on the internet.

Returning his concentration to the book he was reading, the last of the ‘House of Night’ series, he hid a yawn. The book wasn’t all that good. He had himself read one of the first great vampire books, Dracula by Bram Stoker 1897, when he was still human, and later on kept reading the never-ending stream of books about vampirism. Some were quite good. Others not so much. But he still read them. It was a little obsession of his. He had in addition to reading also watched countless movies about the subject. The earliest dating from 1922 and the silent film area with Nosferatu. The latest he’d seen being Underworld: Blood wars, from 2016.

He heard the door opening, signalling new customers, but when his gaze travelled there, he was surprised at what he saw. Two low-life downworlders had just entered wearing simple, but effective towards mundanes, glamours to hide them. They seemed to look around for something and apparently, they found it. Seeing where they were heading, Raphael realised what they were looking for: A target. The downworlders, a woman and … whatever gender the other one had, sat down next to an unexpecting older lady. He watched as they used ‘Encanto’ on her. Immediately affected, she started pouring out the content of her purse for them.

Raphael considered stepping in, but that meant having to explain why HE was there, and since he wasn’t wearing a glamour himself, that might be a little difficult. And there were two of them. He had no desire to start a fight, even less of a desire to attract all the attention such a fight would bring would it erupt in the café. Also, she was a mundane. What did it matter to him? He could see now that the creatures were vampires, but they were not a part of his pack.

But then something changed, that made Raphael more than willing to step in. Alexander sat down next to the old woman. He carefully laid a pale hand over her dark ones, and successfully stopped her from continuing to empty her purse. The two downworlders seemed just about ready to use their Encanto on him when he pulled out nothing less than a stake. He kept it in his other hand, barely visible, peaking up just from under the table. His eyes never strayed from the old woman’s, but Raphael could see how tense his body was, how very aware he was of the two downworlders. The vampires exchanged some form of nonverbal communication, before they arose, not touching any of the woman’s belongings, and quietly leaving.

Alexander pulled back his hand from the old lady’s and stuffed away the stake in the shaft of his left boot. He quickly helped the woman re-gather her belongings, and walked her to the door. Raphael could hear Alexander encouraging her to take a cab home. The woman, still recovering from the Encanto, promptly agreed and stopped a cab. Seeing her well of, Alexander turned back inside. But by then, Raphael was standing directly in his way.

“I saw what you just did. That was very good, I’m impressed. I don’t think anyone noticed. Have you had a lot of experience with invisible people? Do you see through all glamours?” He was convinced now, Alexander was the one. He had just seen the proof.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” The tall man refused to look into his eyes and promptly tried to get past him. But Raphael only moved, so that he remained fully in his way.

“I’m talking about the reason there’s a wooden stake in your shoe. Would you like to explain that? No?”

Alexander said nothing.

“I’ve been looking for you. For a long time. You are going to help me.” Raphael could feel himself losing it. He could feel his fingers tickle, could feel the excitement in his cold heart. He knew the mundane wouldn’t believe him, but the words fell from his tongue without permission.

“Sure, what can I do for you?” He rolled his eyes and finally met Raphael’s black.

“I was told about you. You can break the curse, he said you could.” When the mundane once more tried to get past him, he let him.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, mate. Do you want a muffin or not?” He stood wide-legged, with crossed arms and a military stance. His messy black hair a gloria around his face, his eyes dark blue, and his entire looming figure dressed in black. Except the bright pink, laced, apron hanging from his neck. The embodied text of “Aunt M’s Muffins” were hidden underneath his crossed arm.

“You will help me.” Raphael gave him a crooked smile. He had no doubt. It had all been foretold a long time ago.

“Look, I can call the cops here, and that won’t be so nice for you. Or, you can just leave right now. And I won't have to call anybody.”

“You will help me, Alexander.” Knowing he was close to crossing a line, the vampire turned around and left. Book tucked neatly under his arm and a knowing smile on his face.


	2. What do you call it when a dead man is sleeping?

_Time. Time is a ruthless being. It always continues its destined path, however much you pray for it to stop,_ however _it crushes you. Time will never stop, never slow, never adapt. And so, time must still be moving, still ticking. Right?_

_But it was hard to measure it. Hard to grab, to comprehend. Time was measured, by watches, by the sun and the moon. It was measured by the turning of the earth, the changing of seasons._

_But he had none of that._

_He lived in darkness. If you now could call his existence ‘living’. He could move, breathe, and bleed. But if he held his breath, he would still continue to exist. If he stood still as a statue, he would not change. If he bleeds, or if he didn’t, his existence continued._

_He’d tried to scream, to call out. But no one had heard._

_He’d tried to wave, to jump, to run. But no one had seen._

_He’d tried to pray, tried to dig, scratch, beat, push. Nothing changed. Nothing happened._

_He was stuck. He knew that much. He knew that he hadn’t always been there, but the memories of before were ever fading. He remembers crying and yelling in anger, but those feelings had left him a while ago. He was growing numb. Tired and wary. Existing, without living, was a tiresome task. He just wanted it to stop._

_In all his darkness, there was some light. He had a window, a looking glass. Through it, he could see glimpses of life. Mostly it didn’t change, and then it did, and he was reminded of time once more._

_He could see rooms, at first it was a familiar one. It was all he saw for a long time. And then it started changing, faster. Sometimes something covered his view, and he was left in complete darkness. Other times he caught quick glimpses of sea or sky. When that happened he remembered joy. Then he could see another familiar room. That room he stared at for what he supposed also was a long time._

_The rooms could be empty. Lifeless. But more often than not, there were faces swimming around there. He thought he used to love some of them. Now he could no longer remember why._

_But truth be told? He could barely remember himself._

_Time didn’t stop, and so he supposed it continued to pass, but he had little way of knowing._

______________________

“I think that’s all you can do for now. The rest is a wee bit more complicated, better leave it to the pros, ey?” He could practically taste the cheeky grin sent his way. He was being mocked, of course he was. It was obvious something was up, he never spent this much time in the bakery otherwise. But that meeting a month ago… He preferred to pretend that whenever he turned around, that pompous, damn guy wouldn’t be there. But he always was. And had been for weeks. He constantly tried to talk to Alec, but every time he’d managed to sneak away or busied himself. But a month? When would he give up?

“Alright.” With a possibly slightly too sad nod, he left, sending a wave at the bakers one last time. He quickly untied the bland grey apron they all used in the bakery and switched to the one used in the cafeteria. The awfully pink, laced, one. Huffing, he obediently tied it around his waist. The second the doors swung open the noise seemed to swallow him whole. But he simply shook his head and shuffled towards the register. Clary stood behind it, dutifully handing a customer his change before turning to Alec. On her other side sat Simon on a stool.

“Alec. Finally emerged then? I thought the bakery was my area of expertise?”

“It is.” He couldn’t make himself meet her eyes. That would only encourage to questions. And Alec felt no need to answer any, at all.

“Hi, Alec!” Alec looked up long enough to send a stiff nod in the direction of Simon.

“Hi, Simon.” He promptly started cleaning the counter. Brushing away crumbs, putting a few pencils back in their cup, rearranging various stuff that Clary always seemed to spread around her whenever she stayed behind the counter for too long. Another reason why Alec preferred to stay there.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been behaving really weirdly lately.” Leaning against the counter, Clary gave him her full attention. Showing clearly that she’d had enough of his silence. She never was very patient.

“Yeah like, you’re always kinda broody and mysterious you know, it’s a part of your aura, but lately it’s like you turned up the meter or something. Like, the dark, mysterious broodiness is through the roof, mate.” Alec gave up, and sent a long look their way, hopefully making it murderous enough to stop them from talking.

“Alright. We won’t ask then.” Clary heaved a sigh and straightened up, turning to overlook the café. Seeing something, or someone, she pointed. “Your friend is here.” She smiled like she actually thought he’d be happy she’d pointed him out. And he happened to know exactly who she was talking about. And he had done so well, trying to ignore him.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Boyfriend? Like I’m not judging or anything.” Helpful as always, Simon chipped up.

“No.” Curtly, Alec stepped around the counter to restock napkins, and fill up the containers with cutlery. After doing so, and still feeling the waiting silence from the others, he spoke up, still with his head bent down. “I don’t even know him.”

“Well, since he’s been showing up here for over a month…”

“Over a month?” He sharply turned towards Clary. Looking at her tensely, he awaited her answer.

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t think about it first, but I think I’ve been serving him for closer to two now.” She shrugged. The door rang and a tired-looking young woman stepped in. Probably a student. She quickly recited her order to Clary, and Alec went ahead to start up the machines.

“Maybe he fancies you.” She casually said as she picked out the woman's order from the disk. He sent a heated glance over his shoulder at her. She seemed completely unaware of the inner conflict he already felt. No need to shove it in his face.

Alec finished the drink and handed it over to the student. She smiled a tired smile that didn’t reach her eyes and walked out. He kept his eyes sternly on her back, knowingly retreating to silence.

“Alec come on! He’s here on practically every one of your shifts. Never else. I’ve talked to him. He’s nice!” She abruptly laid a hand on his arm, turning him towards her.

“You should stay away from him.” This time he didn’t hesitate to lock eyes with her. She ought to listen for once.

“Alec!” Realising she wouldn’t hear him, he backed out from her reach, breaking eye contact.

“I’m not having this conversation.” And with that, he put a cleaning spray in the front pocket of his apron and slung a cloth over his shoulder. Putting a square bin under his arm, where he would put dirty dishes, he walked away.

_______________________

  
Simon watched as Alec’s tense dark figure had walked far enough away before he dared to whisper to Clary.

“Do you think I scared him off with the ‘gay’ thing?” Not getting any answer, he continued, thinking she might have misunderstood him.

“I mean, I don’t judge or anything, but maybe he’s one of those ‘no homo’ dudes, you know. Who are super scared of anything rainbow-coloured? I don’t even… should I stop talking?” Finally, he noticed the concentrated look on her face as she seemed to observe something.

“Please. Look.” Subtly she pointed towards the guy she’d earlier been talking about.

“Well, he certainly looks interested.” His eyes ran over the man Clary had pointed out a week earlier. He sat by a somewhat secluded table at the far end of the room. He was leant back, a cup standing on the table before him, and a book held loosely in one hand. He was dark-clad, wearing black trousers and shoes, but having a subtly patterned jacket, going vaguely in green. His head was tilted slightly downward, but his beauty was still obvious. He looked like an angel. His gaze was also obviously following Alec along the room.

“Alec looks murderous.” Clary’s voice broke him from his thoughts. He quickly regained his composure and hid his sweaty hands in his pockets.

“Well… Isn’t that, like, his most common facial expression?”

____________________

Alec was tired. It was 4.30 pm, and officially the end of his shift. But he usually stayed an hour extra or so, to be able to cash a little more at the end of the month. But not today. Today he wanted to go home, and curl into a little ball in his bed, with at least three blankets too many.

He lived a busy life. He was proud of it, definitely, but he rarely allowed himself to think more about how he actually felt. But today, today he thought: screw it! And so he allowed himself to wallow in how heavy his feet felt, and let them drag on the ground beneath him. He felt the persistent ache in the low of his back, the stiffness of his shoulders, and how his arms felt ready to fall off their hinges. But mostly he felt how eyes stung, tired to the point that all he wanted to do was close them.

Clary was long gone. She’d taken an earlier shift today. She didn’t have firm shifts like him but took one whenever they didn’t cross with her university lessons and lectures.

He said his goodbyes, before heading out, walking with heavy steps and having his gaze sluggishly follow the path shortly before him. His mind was already far away, thinking of whether he could afford to skip studying today and go directly to bed. He distantly registered the ringing of the tiny bell above the door as he stepped out, and thought little of the immediately following ring. Not until he heard a hoarse voice call out after him, one he’d only heard once before.

“Alexander!”

He stopped. His head was screaming at him to move, to ignore him, to pretend that he wasn’t there. Like he’d done all other times they’d met. But he was far too tired for that today, far too tired to be rational and smart. With his feet frozen to the pavement, he rolled his shoulders once and left his hands hanging prepared by his side.

“We need to talk, Alexander.” Alec could hear his shoes on the ground as he took a few steps closer. He fixed his gaze on a window sign a few meters away, as to not be tempted to look at the other man.

“My name is Raphael Santiago, and you, Alexander, are special. Very special. You can see us.” There was a pause. “I’ve been searching for a mundane, gifted with the sight, for a long time. I need your help.” When Alec remained still, the man took another few steps. His figure slowly turned up in the corner of his eye. Standing fully in his vision, the man stopped. Making sure not to corner him. Like he was a frightened deer.

“Please. You don’t understand. I was told about you over two decades ago!” A part of him was happy that the man was getting frustrated with him, liked to get back at him, but the bigger part just wanted him to remain inhumanly patient, non-relatable.

“There is another world out there. Most mundanes can’t see it. But you can. You can see US. All your nightmares, all these legends, are true. Vampires, werewolves, demons. All real.“ The man was still not getting any closer, but the way he phrased himself… Alec could feel the hairs on his neck standing right up. The words stroke a cold chord within him.

“I’m not trying to harass you. That’s not my end goal here. I just need your help.”

“I can answer all of your questions. I’m sure you must have a lot of them.” At that Alec finally tore his gaze away from the window sign across the street and looked into the other man’s charcoal eyes. Yes, he had questions. Far too many of them. But it was not worth it being in someone else’s debt.

“Are you done?” When the only answer presented were the slight crease appearing between his eyebrows, Alec nodded once, and walked past him.

  
-o-

  
Alec twisted the key once and as soon as he heard the click he opened the door. Closing it behind him, his shoulders sagged and he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out after a few seconds. Locking his door and putting on the chain, he let down his mental barriers. He was safe at home. Here.

He neatly placed his shoes by the door and hung off his jacket. Pulling off his socks he walked barefoot from the hallway to the kitchen. He quickly dumped his bag on the kitchen island and started pulling out what he’d need. He’d managed to go over his notes between work with the customers today, so his notebook was in there. Taking it out and flipping it to the right pages, he simultaneously gathered his laptop from the living room. He quickly eyed through the words before leaving both objects next to his bag. Before he did anything else he really ought to eat something.

Already having planned what to eat the week before, he simply brought out the ingredients needed from the fridge and started.

Heating up an iron, he poured a variety of newly chopped vegetables there. Letting them fry, he put some noodles to cook.

Not long after, he found himself by the kitchen island, eating, and watching intently on his laptop as an archaeologist talked about how and why so many Roman gold coins have been found in Scandinavian countries.

Alec didn’t really go to a college. Or a university. Some would argue if he really studied at all. Argue that watching lectures online, and reading given material would count as studying. Alec thought it did. And apparently, so did the University providing him and several other long distance students with their education. They did the same essays, same test, same rapports. They watched similar lectures and had an equal amount of work. The difference? Except the obvious, that they weren’t there. They take more responsibility, but also have more control over their schedule. Alec gets assigned what needs to get done each week to be able to follow his course and gets to decide when to do it himself. He watches filmed lectures as soon as they are posted, and at times work with other online students for projects. Completing an online course takes longer time, Alec must fulfil an entire year, including the summer. And he must take his essays at the university. But otherwise, his education is in every way equal to someone taking the course there. Currently, he is taking a course in ancient history, dating from before the Renaissance and focusing specifically on the dark ages. At the moment he was taking a closer look at the Vikings in Scandinavia especially. Their culture, their war methods and battle techniques who made them so famous, and partly how they interacted with the other peoples of Europe.

By the time the video was over, Alec’s plate had long since turned cold, and he had filled up another few pages in his book.

It was late. He quickly gathered his dishes and taped up hot water in the sink. Washing the dishes and putting them to dry went on routine. Getting himself ready and putting out his stuff for tomorrow went a similar way. Having his thought spinning on hidden gold stashes and ancient vandalism, there was little place for thoughts about mysterious men claiming the existence of monsters. But he did not entirely forget him. No.

By the time Alec had pulled up his covers and turned off the light, it was almost as if he could see him, right outside his window. Just a quick glimpse of a silhouette, before he fell asleep.

  
-o-

  
If he could only return to taking the same bus with the guy and occasionally having to whip up a strongly caffeinated drink for him. But no. Ever since they “talked”, Raphael had been everywhere. Raphael Santiago his name was. Alec had thought he’d been insistent previously, but now? The guy followed him home, stopping only when Alec closed the apartment building’s door in his face. He hung around the register when Alec worked at the bakery. When Alec had shown up to the post office one morning, he'd been met with the sight of him chatting with Alec’s coworkers, calmly sipping on Molly’s coffee.

He was everywhere Alec turned. Invading his life. At his work, at his home, with his friends.

Anger was lying constantly churning in his gut, growing hotter and wilder every day. Santiago had been slowly cornering him, and by now he was pretty much ready to lash out. At anyone. Whenever. He’d had enough. His hands itched to punch something. His head was constantly going on overdrive. His senses on extreme alertness. The next time he got five minutes alone with the guy, he would need to be carried away.

_________________

  
_It was dark._

_Not the natural kind, where you can still see shapes and contours._

_This darkness swallowed everything. It felt alive._

_He reached out to feel around him, finding only emptiness. Taking a step, he realised there was no floor, no ground. The same emptiness seemed to exist underneath him as well._

_He tried to lay a hand on his chest, breathing out as he understood, at least, he was still real._

_“Where am I?”_

_There were no walls, no ground, nothing but himself. Himself and the darkness pulsing around him. He didn’t feel alone._

_-_ raphael _?_

_He spun around, or at least he thought he did. He couldn't see anything. But he had heard his name whispered. And that voice?_

_-Raphael?_

_Realisation hit him like a wave. He knew that voice! There had been a time in his life when that voice had been the reason for everything. “MAGNUS?!”_

_-Raphael!_

“WHERE ARE YOU?” _Please, he pled, please dear lord let me find him! Let me save him!_

_-Raphael? Help me!_

“I WILL! JUST TELL ME HOW TO FIND YOU?” _The darkness around him moved, started swirling around him like a storm. Something was wrong._

_-I… I don’t remember…_

“MAGNUS!!”

_-Raphael! Are you there? Can you hear me?_

_The swirling darkness changed around him, turning lighter. He could now see how it brushed over him, how it tried to close around him or close around something else..._

“YES I CAN! YES! I DON’T KNOW HOW YOU’RE DOING IT BUT KEEP GOING!”

_-I don’t…_

“MAGNUS!” _A figure could vaguely be seen through the dark flowing storm. A familiar figure._

_-Who’s Magnus?_

“... Magnus?” _Fear, cold and pure, rolled through his body. He could hear his heart beating loudly in his chest._

_-I can’t remember… It’s been so long… I’m tired_

“DON’T FALL ASLEEP, MAGNUS! YOU HEAR ME?” _A hand disentangled from the darkness, reaching out. Caramel skin, jewelled fingers._

_-I’m so tired… I don’t think I can last much longer…_

_He tried to reach for it, but it was like moving through honey, he was oh so slow._

“MAGNUS!!”

_He could see a pair of glowing, yellow eyes shine inside the storm. Pupils split, like a cat’s. They looked right at him. Then blinked once, and the hand was pulled back. The darkness grew stronger and blocked his sight. Before he knew what had happened, it launched at him._

_All was dark._

_-_ raphael _?_

  
_-o-_

  
Raphael opened his eyes to darkness. Natural, familiar darkness. He could see the dust lazily hanging in the air above his head and the coffin lid above it. Carefully, he reached out to push it open. Sitting up and drinking in his surroundings, he let a shivering breath out.

He’d dreamt.  
  
He could barely remember what that’d felt like. He hadn’t dreamt once since he died. As a general rule, only alive things dreamt, and he was not alive. Yet, he had no other explanation for what had happened. He had been asleep, or whatever you called it when a dead creature closed its eyes and laid still for hours, he had been resting, existing, recovering. But then he’d seen things that weren’t there, heard things and felt things. Inside his head. It was either dreaming, or hallucinating. And it was a while since he’d done that too.

Thinking about it, he could now easily see the signs of a dream.

He’d heard his own heart beating.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes and then dragging it through his hair, he hoped to shake the awful feeling in his stomach. He was missing something.

He clambered out of his coffin, making his way into his living room. He lived in one of the suites in Hotel Dumort. He had a bedroom, living room, bathroom and a more formal meeting room. He had little need for a kitchen, he owned a bar in its’ stead. His living room contained a couch set lowered into the floor, a couple of shelves and several purely ornamental objects: like plants, minor sculptures, paintings and so on. But what dominated the room was the huge full-body mirror standing along a wall. It went almost from roof to floor and was wide enough for two persons to stand next to each other before it and still be fully visible. The frame was golden and held the most remarkable swirls and patterns.

Raphael stopped in his track as he was passing it. His mind racing, grasping for whatever he’d missed. Turning towards it, he noticed a crack in its smooth surface. The crack was only an inch long, but fear immediately had the hair on Raphael's neck standing up. He remembered now.

He could no longer wait for Alexander’s help, he needed it NOW.

___________________

  
Clary’s fiery red hair framed her face as she smiled and shook her head. For a second Simon completely forgot how to breathe.

“I said no, Simon. They won’t let you back in there, not after last time.”

“That was weeks ago!”

“And why would you be any better now?”

“I… I’d…”

“Mhum. Exactly.” She smiled at me in a way that had her eyes glittering and he knew he’d do anything she’d ask.

“Now either go home or stay here with…” She motioned at the ever gloomy dark figure by the register, “Alec.”

Sighing, Simon eventually nodded, and she left clearly self-satisfied. He looked after her until she disappeared into the bakery. Partly he understood, last time he ‘helped’ in the bakery he’d caused them to have to remake an entire batch of bread. But on the other hand, he just wanted to be near her. Turning to saunter over to Alec, his eyes were caught on another dark figure.

He was here again. Sitting in the corner where no sunlight could reach him, and few could see him. Simon only ever came on Clary’s shifts, but he’d noticed how whenever Alec was here, so was he. All he had eyes for was Alec, his gaze lingering on him, wherever in the room he stood. Simon instinctively turned to Alec, who was making a coffee to an older lady with an awfully pink sun hat. To judge by his face and general aura of stormy tension, he had already noticed the uninvited guest.

It was fairly obvious that Alec really tried to ignore the man, and fairly obvious that the man was staring right at him. Simon could feel sticky black goo growing at the base of his throat, jamming his vocal chords. He knew the feeling, the strong demanding feel of jealousy. But why? He only ever felt it around Clary when she unknowingly flirted with other guys. But there was no mistaking the feeling he got when he saw the angel-faced man stare at Alec. But no, why should he care about some handsome stranger, who was clearly already interested in somebody else. He had Clary, or at least he’s working on getting Clary, so why does it bother him when that mysterious stranger won’t ever look at him?

He was abruptly dragged from his thoughts as his phone’s obnoxious ringtone set of. Every head in the approximate distance turned to stare disapprovingly, he could swear it.

He fumbled a bit to get it from the pocket of his jeans before he, slightly out of breath, answered. “Yeah?”

“Simon! I wasn’t sure you’d pick up, with your band practice and all.”

“Mum, there’s no practice today. I told you twice this morning.” Dragging a hand through his hair, he could feel the prickle of annoyance dragging along his spine.

“Sure, I just wanted to know if you’ll be home for dinner? You sister’s coming tonight!”

“I told you ages ago, I’m heading for Maureen’s tonight. The entire band is coming, she’s letting me sleep on her couch. I swear you asked me like, yesterday, and I told you!”

“Well, you can’t expect me to remember everything. But you’ll come, won’t you? You and Rebecca are so close, don’t you wish to see her?” He sighed. She’d pulled the if-you-say-no-you’ll-be-a-bad-brother card.

“Of course I do, I love her, but we planned this ages ago mum!”

“Simon Lewis…”

“Fine! I’ll come, but I won’t stay all night. I’m heading over to Maureen’s later.”

“Sure. Do take care, little monkey.” Simon could hear her ‘kissing’ the phone, and he abruptly hung up. The kisses would scar him for life.

He turned back to watch the man, but when his eyes roamed over the same pair of empty chairs and table five times and finding no sign of him at all, he cast a betrayed look at his phone. He’d missed him leaving.

He distractedly started walking to where Alec was, upon realising that was gone as well. He gave a small wave to the new girl behind the cashier, before quickly walking through the café, to see if he could find him. When he didn’t, he could feel his stomach turning. Something was wrong. He couldn’t tell why, but the hairs on his arms were standing straight up, and cold shivers ran down his back. Something was really wrong.

He quickly sneaked back through the door, but instead of going towards the bakery, he headed the other way. Passing the changing room and later the toilets, he walked past the back door with little reaction but soon doubled back. Through the barred window on the door, he could see the man from earlier standing outside, presumably talking to someone. Simon went to open the door but stopped as another figure came into sight. Alec. Carefully, to make no noise, he edged the door open. The bad feeling of his gut stopped him from turning away. Instead he leaned closer to be able to hear what they said.

“How many times do I have to tell you I am not interested in helping you!”, Alec screamed out the words to the man in the shadows.

“You haven't told me! Instead all you've done is ignore me. Do you think I'm doing this for kicks? I've come to you because I need YOUR help! But you won’t even hear me out!”

“I have listened to you! You're all crazy thoughts and lies! Just leave me alone, go find someone else to stalk!”

“You all think you're so great, but when faced with something difficult, you turn childish! Unable to act like civilised beings. I don’t know how I thought you could ever help me, you're all low-life creatures. You're nothing more than an ape!”

Alec launched furiously at the smaller man, punching him square in the jaw. The other man staggered back a few steps but did little to show he’d even felt the blow.

“I should never have asked for your help, you can’t ask a dog, you need to order them!”

The man had barely finished the sentence, before Alec was on him, holding him firmly by the collar of his jacket, and landing punch after punch in the man’s face.

Simon was all but ready to step in when the man moved faster than he could register, and suddenly Alec was flying through the air and hitting the opposite wall.

Simon winced in sympathy as he heard the heavy thud of Alec hitting the wall, and later the ground.

Picking himself up, Alec rolled his shoulders and spit on the ground next to him. The men launched at each other, and punches were exchanged faster than Simon could keep up with. He could see Alec staggering back at one point after a blow to the stomach, and at one point Alec banged their heads together with a force that had the other man’s head flying back.

When Simon finally realised he had to interfere, the other man was shoved against a wall, and both of Alec’s hands were laid around his neck. Opening the door and almost falling out, Simon immediately called out, even though he already had both men’s attention.

“Alec stop!” He stood bent forward with his arms stretched out before him. All he could see was Alec, broody silent Alec, with blood on his face and his hands around another guys neck.

“Get out of here Simon!” Alec turned to him and yelled, he was scared, there was fear in his eyes. But the other man was completely calm. No redness in his face indicating a struggle to breathe, no shallow breaths or fighting. He simply stood there, pressed against the wall, having Alec block his airways, and he looked amused.

“No. Stay.” The moment he uttered the words and looked into Simon’s eyes, he couldn't move. A warm feeling spread throughout him. He felt sleepy and oddly compliant. The man’s dark eyes took up his entire sight.

“I want to hear what he has to say. If someone asks you for a favour and this person really needs it, should you help this person or just ignore him and let him deal with it himself?” Alec was brushed off the man as if he decided he didn’t feel like getting choked anymore, and the man walked over to Simon. Not that he noticed much. Simons’ head felt small and padded. He had a difficulty taking in what happened around him.

“I… I would have helped him, I guess. If I didn't have a good explanation not to.” The man smiled, and so Simon happily smiled back.

“Do you have a good reason not to help me, Alec?” The man turned briefly towards a now sagging Alec and uttered his name in spite.

“Leave him alone.” The man only smiled at Alec’s words and came even closer. He stood just before Simon, giving him a clear shot of his face.

The man had a small tendril of blood coming from a jack in one eyebrow, a bloody smear around his nose after what appeared to be a nosebleed, and when he smiled, Simon could see a sheen of blood covering the man’s teeth and lips. But somehow he still managed to look like an angel out of a Renaissance painting, with his black hair and eyes in great contrast against his fair skin.

The man made a sidestep and walked so that he came behind Simon. Standing so close behind him that he could feel his breath, he seemed to lean even closer. His head held just by Simon’s neck. Without being able to move, Simon merely stood, wondering what he’d do. He could feel the man’s breath on his neck, and a shiver managed to creep down his back. At last the man pulled back.

“I am not asking anymore. The time is running out and I need your help.”

And with that the man opened the door behind Simon and walked back inside, presumably to walk through to the other exit. And finally, Simon felt the pressure forcing him to the ground disappearing. It was like waking from a dream. Simon blinked several times slowly, coming back to his senses. He swayed slightly until he felt his balance returning. As soon as he could run without falling on his face, his was by Alec’s side. He quickly laid an arm around his waist, as he looked about ready to fall over himself. His lip was split, and there was a cut under his left eye. But the worst part was where his other eye was rapidly swelling shut. His eye and cheek already bore promises of large bruises. Alec grunted once in pain, as Simon tried to get him to move, but then continued silently.

Simon managed to get him inside, to the personal room. After carefully having dabbed the cuts on Alec’s face with a saline solution, he eventually dared to voice his concerns.

“Who was that?”

“His name’s Raphael Santiago.” Alec uttered his name like it was foul, worse than a curse word. But after he seemed content not to say anything more. After a while of silence, were Alec kept his eyes shut, and simply sat and breathed, Simon tried again.

“What does he want your help with?” Alec opened his left eye and gave Simon a dark look.

“Nothing good.” Simon nodded. He doubted Alec would tell him much more. They sat in silence, and Simon pulled out his phone to see if his mum had called again,

“Thank you.”, Alec said abruptly. He didn’t specify why, or for what, but Simon gladly took anyway.

“You should go get that checked out.” He gave a weak gesture in the general area of Alec’s face.

“No.”

“Then at least call Luke about, Raphael you said?” He waved his phone in front of his face. Luke was Clary’s step-dad, and he also happens to be a cop. Simon had him in his contacts.

“No.”

“Alec…”

“I’ll be fine.” He grunted. Without waiting for a response, he rose and grabbed his jacket and bag already in the room. While in the doorway, he turned back to Simon.

“I’ll be fine. Will you tell Clary and the others I wasn’t feeling good and needed to head home?” Simon felt tempted to refuse, he really thought somebody ought to know. But the look on Alec’s face was enough to convince him otherwise.

“Sure.”

And with that, he was gone.


	3. Annoying, won’t leave you alone and sucks blood. No, I’m not talking about mosquitos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so late. I could come with excuses but honestly, I'm too relieved to finally get this chapter out to bother. Enjoy! Remember, feedback is always appreciated.

Raphael staggered to a stop a few blocks away from where he’d just shown Alec his teeth about an inch away from the neck of his mundane friend. Putting a hand on the house wall to steady himself, he bent down and took a few deep breaths. Looking up to the sky, he started smiling. The grin spread over his features until he was all crinkly eyes and white teeth. A tremor shook through his frame, once, twice, and before long he was laughing. He laughed to himself facing the blue sky with arms spread wide from his body. Laughed until tears built up in his eyes and he struggled to fill his lungs with air he didn’t need but wanted nonetheless.

When his breathing evened several minutes later he was tempted to return, to the site of his crime, but thought better of it. If he turned up again so soon the mundanes were bound to call their police. And as fun as it was to play a game of cat and mouse with them, to see just how much their minds could be twisted, he had more at stake now. He had felt Alec’s attitude towards him change as they fought. He’d felt it when he’d allowed him to land punch after punch on his face. The words he’d uttered had sipped past the mundane’s defences like the poison it was. It had triggered the man’s anger, and when they fought he’d gotten visibly drained. Raphael was certain that the man was close to bending now. All it took was a little patience and a few more pushes, and he’d have him.

Raphael considered not going back home, the Hotel had started to creep on his nerves, but since he had nowhere else to go…

The way back went far too fast. He could still feel the air stinging in his lungs and the faint ace of the hits he’d taken. But he healed of course. Whether he wished to or not, and he knew the dull pain would be gone within minutes. Still, he realised in feeling alive. Had his heart been beating, it would have gone crazy in his chest. It was almost like he could feel it.

When the Hotel came in sight, he could see some of the vampires lounging in the shadows of the gate. A few of them smoked. Raphael wrinkled his nose in disgust. Smoking was such a human vice. A disgusting habit invented because humans couldn’t deal with themselves. Unfortunately, newly turned vampires had a tendency to keep their habits.

Raphael made his way up to the gates. He could feel the eyes of his fellows on him, their chatter had died, and their cigs left in their hands. They all watched him. They had no position within the clan, merely pawns in the great game of chess. A game where Camille could either be considered the queen or the king. Whatever role was hers, everyone knew that Raphael was her right hand. They held no love for each other, but they recognised each other's power and used it. Raphael was one step away from being the most powerful vampire in London, and by being so, he was one of the most powerful vampires in all of Great Britain. And even the newbies knew that. So their curiosity to why he had suddenly started leaving the Hotel so often when he hadn’t in years, was understandable. They had all noticed him leaving, but they never saw where he went. He wasn’t with Camille, nor on any of the parties the others went to. He had become something of a mystery. Their attention was annoying, but nothing more. They held no leverage over him and no authority.

He walked right by them, ignored the eyes on his back, and sauntered into the lobby of the hotel. His clothes were a mess, there was blood on his face, and a spark in his eyes that hadn’t been seen in decades.

Jumping the stairs several at a time, he advanced up. The higher the floor, the higher the rank. The top floor was Camille's private quarters, but the one underneath held a meeting room, a ballroom of sorts, and Raphael’s own suite.

With only one staircase left until his own floor he felt a cold hand on his arm. Smelling who it was he stopped on his path. He let the cool hand spin him around until he could see into her eyes. In the faint light of the hotel, her eyes shone like black jewels, and her long, dark hair hung like a waterfall from her head. Her eyes met his steadily, not moved by the height difference or his unruly appearance.

“Where have you been Raphael?” Her eyes held him firmly. They were so familiar to him. Next to a pair of yellow eyes, these were the ones he loved the most.

“Out.” He could see that there was anger steaming right beneath her steady gaze and straight mouth.

“I can see that. What have you done?”

“Does it matter?” He gave a weak shrug.

“Yes. Yes it does. I’m your friend. These last months you’ve changed. Something’s different but you won’t tell me.” Her hand took a hold of his hand and held it freely. A part of Raphael wished to sit down and tell her everything. But he knew he couldn’t. She wouldn’t understand. Could not understand the importance of his mission. She would only try to persuade him to let it go. And he couldn’t let her do that. She had already been far too close, far too many times.

“It’s not of importance to you.”

“No? I’m your best friend! Of course it’s of importance to me!” She threw his hand aside and backed a step. Her facade had cracked and the anger shining through was fiery and hot.

“Just… Leave it alone, Lily. I’m not interested in talking.” He made to take a step back, but her harsh voice stopped him.

“Months. I’ve left you to whatever is going on for months. I’ve been patient. I deserve to know. You know I do.” She stared at him. He knew that if he turned her away now, she would not aid him further. She was a powerful ally and a good friend. His best friend. And maybe his only one now. But the mission was more important than either her or his own feelings.

“You always said I should go out more. And now I do.” He gave her a looped smile and turned his back to her. As he took the steps up several at a time he could feel her cool eyes on his back. She was right of course. He owed her.

He closed the door to his suit with a sigh of relief. Standing and just feeling the sensations of home, he took in the smells, the dust particles in the air around him, and the familiar sounds. An old clock ticked in one room. A leather couch smelled vaguely of old material, and a breeze from the living room brought a smell of wild flowers. Step by step he walked further into his rooms. He could hear his steps on the wooden floor. He could see how the dust around him swirled when he let air escape from his lungs.

He stopped in front of the magnificent, huge, golden mirror dominating the room. He only spared his reflection a quick glance, before his eyes were drawn to the inscription at the top. Four swirling letters. Together creating a word. An enormously powerful word. A name.

Carefully Raphael pulled out the golden chain hanging around his neck from underneath his shirt. The cross sent a familiar sting through his fingertips. He looked at its’ reflection in the mirror. Before he had thought it through he was kneeling down, with his hand tightly holding the cross. Closing his eyes, he did something he hadn’t done in years. He opened up a well in his heart that he’d closed such a long time ago.

He opened that well. He opened the well that contained his belief. All of his faith. And he allowed himself to hope again.

And he took God’s name in his mouth and prayed.

 

____________________

 

He glanced at the watch on his wrist. It was early afternoon. He had no classes until later, so he was in no hurry, but he rarely ever came this early. Usually, he showed up on time to meet Clary when she arrived for her shift, or sometime later when she was already there. But today he was there for someone else. Clary didn't start for another quarter, but he'd been here for half an hour already. He typed down another word on his laptop, added it to the very short list he'd been writing on for a solid twenty minutes. Simon quickly glanced up to where he could see Alec serving an older man who looked very Scottish for some reason. He shook his head and yelled a little at himself for getting so easily distracted. He had a mission.

When the song playing in his ear buds ended, he opened up another tab with his Spotify list and picked out a new one. When he'd returned to his far-too-short list he glanced up again. Alec stood stoically behind the register. His shoulders were slightly hunched inwards, which gave him an appearance of sinking into himself. Somehow he managed to look both small and big at the same time. Which was an accomplishment for someone of his figure. Alec had a height that made Simon jealous and the build of an athlete. Add his movie-star like features and raven hair he could easily be on the front page of a magazine, and yet, the guy seemed completely oblivious to the flirty glances and hints sent his way from various customers.

Simon had been mortified the first time he'd met Alec. Clary had talked about him of course. She'd told him vaguely about the mysteriously quiet man she'd gotten as a co worker. But he hadn't thought more of it. Clary had been intrigued, but not overly interested. But when they'd been introduced for the first time, Simon had almost bailed. The guy was beautiful in a lack of another word. Not handsome really, but beautiful. He had the bluest eyes Simon had ever seen. To say he'd gotten protective of Clary was probably an understatement. But really? He'd been entirely entitled, there was no way he could have competed with Alec, had he won her eyes.

It probably took him two full months to realise that both Clary and Alec were completely uninterested. The guy was actually rather boring. He never talked about himself, he shared no hobbies or passions and never voluntarily contributed to discussions. Neither Alec nor Clary were at all interested in each other. Not that he’d ever seen Alec interested in anyone. He only ever seemed to care about his studies and keeping the workplace clean.

It was Monday. Simon hadn’t seen Alec all weekend, not since the fight on Friday, but he had been obsessively thinking about it. Simon didn’t usually fight. Or had friends who fought. So getting involved in a fight between a guy he barely knows and a guy he’d never talked to was never on his mind. But now he had. He studied Alec’s face from a distance. It did, for the first time, not look good. The cut under one of his eyes was fiercely red, and he had a big purple-black bruise over the other eye. His jaw also bore purple staining and considering the way he held himself so stiffly, there were probably similar bruising on his arm and thigh on the side he landed, and most likely on his chest and back too. How he was even standing, and let alone working, was beyond Simon. He looked awful. His pale skin and dark hair only made his black eye stand out more.

“Simon!” The sudden call came so unexpectedly that Simon involuntarily jumped in his seat. When he turned startled to the source of the voice he saw Clary happily walking over to him. She was wearing a pair of paint stained jeans and a white top with pastel stripes. A simple thin green jacket covered her shoulders. Her hair was put up in a messy bun and by her side hanged her ever present bag. She had just arrived.

“What are you already doing here?” She asked as she dropped down into the chair opposite him. She made to grab his laptop to turn it around, but he quickly reached out to slam it shut.

“Nothing. Didn’t feel like hanging around at home.” Lying to Clary made his fingers itch with unease. He hated doing that. Which should say something about his morals considering how long he’d kept from telling her about his feelings.

“Ok. I’m just gonna leave my stuff and go change, and I’ll be right back, alright?” She smiled at him and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before she was gone. He watched her short silhouette with her screaming red hair and the just visible white neck peeking out from above her jacket collar as she left.

“Sure.”

It took about fifteen minutes of Simon restlessly skipping song after song on his music list for Clary to come storming back, now with her hair in a tidy ponytail and wearing one of the pink, laced aprons.

“What the hell Simon?!” She sat down in the same chair as previously, but this time she leant forward with her eyes burning with anger.

“What?!” He nervously fidgeted with his sleeves. If his hunch was right, he knew exactly where this was going. She must’ve seen Alec.

“Have you seen Alec?” Her voice was sharp, demanding. Her calm and happy demeanour was nowhere to be seen.

“Pretty hard to miss, he’s kinda tall.” His gaze found it’s way over to Alec by the register before he remembered himself and pulled it back.

“What happened to him? His face!”

“Why would I know, go ask him!” They were both now whispering with a fierceness that would’ve made Simons third grade drama teacher proud.

“He won’t tell me.” At this, she leant back. Her fire seemed somewhat calmed. An idea struck him as he observed her. She might be more affected from not being told, than that Alec was actually hurt.

“Well, I don’t know.”

“SIMON!” No, nevermind. Her fire had not been calmed.

“I… I can’t tell you.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” She scooted her chair closer and bent forward. She then set her big, green, beautiful eyes at him. Foul move. He turned his gaze away from hers.

“Yeah, but it’s not about you. It’s about him.” At that, she stayed silent for a while.

“... But why would he tell you and not me?” She moved her chair the last inches and then put her head on his shoulder. He thought a while on how to respond. It seemed his previous suspicion had been correct.

“He didn’t. I was kinda there…?” before the words were even out of his mouth Clary had stiffened and her head left his shoulder. She turned her eyes on him and he could almost hear how she was thinking.

“When he left early on Thursday. I knew you were acting dodgy!” She put an accusing finger in his chest.

“What do you want me to say?” He carefully shoved her hand away. His shoulder was cold. He didn’t want to fight. Definitely not over Alec. But Clary stayed quiet. After a few minutes, she leant back into her chair. Her gaze was firmly drilled onto Alec. At first, he felt a sting of jealousy, but it quickly died. He had no reason to be jealous of Alec. Especially not when the guy was walking around and visibly flinching of pain.

“Clary?”

“Yeah?” Her voice was calm, but her eyes didn’t leave her target.

“What’s Alec’s last name?”

“Why?” Green eyes turned to him again.

“I just… I don’t know anything about him… I just thought I could… you know?” He opened his computer again and logged in.

“Oh my god Simon! You are not stalking him online!” The expression on her face was equal parts terrified and exasperated.

“I didn’t say that!” But fairly, as he opened the internet browser, Facebook popped up as his last used site.

“But that’s what you were thinking.” She pointed at the screen, where the logo was taunting him. He looked at it accusingly for a while, before turning to Clary. They stayed silently watching each other for what felt like forever. They didn't say a word, but they were still having a feisty argumentation. Eventually, Simon turned his eyes away and sunk back into his chair. He was pouting, he’d admit it.

“Simon, no.”

“I won’t. Ok?” He cast a glance her way before reaching for his laptop and closing down the tab.

“Good.” They stayed silent for another while.

“But what is his last name?” He turned at her again. The curiosity he felt made him want to jump around the building, but he forced his feet not to start tapping. But Clary only shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t?” He sat up a bit more.

“Never needed to know.”

“Right.” He slumped again.

“I’m leaving now. Don’t do anything stupid.” She gave him one last ‘look’, and rose from her seat. This time as she left, Simon kept his eyes on the door to the café. He wondered if the mysterious man would show up again. He could still remember how his breath had tickled his neck.

Simon reopened the document where he had written the short list of everything he knew about Alec. After eyeing through it again, he couldn’t escape the fact that he knew pathetically little about him. Most of the things there were things you could see after having observed him for like ten minutes. Some things were deeper, like his almost compulsive need for order, or his extreme studying whenever he had time. He also tended to work over to ease up with shift changes and had the utmost respect for rules. As he thought of something more to add, if he knew anything else, something orange showed on the edge of his sight. He looked up to see Clary standing right next to Alec. Putting the jokes on height differences aside, he paid close attention to what he assumed would be a heated discussion. Unable to hear anything he focused on trying to read from Clary’s body language. He’d known her for over a decade. He knew what she looked like when she was distressed, or angry. Or anything else really. He even knew how she acted when she saw someone she thought was cute. Unfortunately. But she seemed rather calm. They spoke for a while, and then she walked away, back through the door. Slightly confused, he turned back to his list.

Not twenty minutes later she showed up again, partly out of breath, and sat down next to him.

“Alexander Doe. D, O, E.” She urgently waved for him to close his tap and pull up Facebook once more.

“Did you ask him?” She noded and he hurried to do as she ‘urgently waved’ for him to do.

“I may have accidentally stumbled upon staff records.”

“What, how?!” She gave him a weak smile, but the blush high on her cheeks told him she was excited, not ashamed.

“Better not ask.” He looked at her once more and shrugged. She’d done crazy things before.

“You’re the boss. Alexaaander D O E... “ Simon typed the name in the search bar, while Clary watched him intensely. “Huh.” He let out a surprised sigh after a couple of minutes, after having searched through different profiles.

“What?”

“There’s no Facebook profile, at least not of an Alexander we know. Did you know Alec was short for Alexander?”

“No.” He nodded. Pulling up another tap he started searching Alec’s real name through several other social media servers. After a while, he made a sound of frustration. “I… Nope. Unless he’s using a really interesting pseud, I can’t find anything.”

“Nothing? At all?” His neck tickled from the sharp glare he knew was being directed his way.

“Nada. And that is kinda impressive.” He turned to look at her but she’d gone silent again. She was very up and down today apparently.

“Maybe he’s a serial killer.”

“Simon.” She rolled her eyes at him but otherwise stayed quiet.

“Or an alien.”

“Simon!” He could see her getting annoyed, but the words were bubbling from his mouth like tar.

“Or like, part of a secret demon-fighting-society!”

“SIMON!” As she shouted, she decided that it wouldn’t be enough, and therefore also hit him. On his arm. Hard.

“Ouch, OK I’ll stop.” When he got no answer from her he decided it was worth naming one last concern. “I’m just… maybe we don’t know the guy.”

“Of course we do! It’s Alec! Kind, silent, broody Alec. I’ve known him for a year!”

“But do you knooooow him? I mean, you didn’t know his last name. Or even his actual name. How can you be so sure?”

“I know him, Simon”

What’s his favourite colour?” He sneaked open the list of things he knew about Alec again, hopeful for contributions.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes. Tell me.” He nodded over ambitiously. For an extra touch, he pulled his glasses down until they rested on the tip of his nose, and made his best impression of their kindergarten teacher. Clary lasted only a few seconds before a grin spread over her features.

“It’s black.”

“Too easy, it’s the only colour he wears. How old is he?” She shrugged.

“Um.. 21?” Simon looked at his list. He’d written Alec’s age between 20 and 25.

“Where does he live? Is it an apartment or with his parents or maybe on a campus?” There he hadn’t written anything direct, but he suspected apartment. It wasn’t very likely for him to live on campus, considering how he worked.

“Apartment. And it’s close. I know he commutes in less than half an hour.” He raised his eyebrow at her. He knew how envious she was of that.

“Vague, but ok. Pets?” Never seen any cat hairs on his very black clothes. Not likely. Unless it was like, fish… or reptiles.

“No.” He crossed it off his list.

“His family? Parents, brother or sisters?” That one had been tricky. He had no idea. He’d heard Alec mention female names before but he had no idea if it was friends or family. Or maybe classmates.

“I don’t think he has a very good relationship with them, they might be divorced. He never really talks about them. He might have a sister though. I know a girl named Molly bought his phone for him.” He wrote ‘Molly=sister?’ as an addition to the list.

“Where does he study?” That one was blanc. He looked expectantly at her. He had yet to pull back his glasses.

She only shook her head.

“What does he study?”

“All kinds of things! This is getting silly!” he gave her a somewhat stern look before comparing her words to the ones on his list. His were a bit more descriptive, had written down everything he'd noticed. Things like religion, history, some science and math. Even classical literature. But ‘all kinds of things’ worked too.

“Why does he study?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” He studied Clary her sudden outburst, and he realised that he was close to making her see now. So close to getting her to understand why he had become wary of Alec.

“Clary. Is he seeing anyone?” Soft words left his mouth, careful not to upset her further.

“I… I don’t…”

“What does he love? Can you tell me one, just one, thing that he’s passionate about? A hobby?” He laid a hand on her thigh. A way to physically comfort her.

“No. I can’t.” Her voice was so small, it hurt Simon to ask further. But he was so close now.

“Are you still sure that you know him?” She looked startled at him. They stayed silently staring at each other for some time before Clary angrily wiped her eyes and walked away.

Simon cast one last unnerved glance at the dark figure behind the register. He never really got along with Alec, but he’d thought he knew him too. He’d been wrong.

 

_____________________

 

Alec dropped the keys as soon as he was through the door. He barely had the strength to hang off his coat, he was completely run through. Kicking off his shoes he took a few staggering steps in. Putting his hand on the wall for support he found his way into the bathroom. As he turned on the light, the small room filled with sharp, cold light. He grabbed a hold of the sink with both hands, so hard his knuckles turned white. The effort to stay standing took everything he had. In the bathroom mirror, a pair of red edged eyes looked back at him. One held an aura of purple, slightly swollen skin, the other with a screaming red cut underneath. His eyes looked so dark, so tired. Feeling some strength return, he removed one hand to examine the bruise on his jaw. Sighing, he took a step back and carefully pulled off his shirt. Seeing his pale skin in comparison to the blooming colours on his chest and abdomen, his mouth turned downward in unease. Pulling off his pants, he examined the same bruises on his thigh, and on his arm.

He’d been hurt before, it was nothing new, but this was bad. Only ghosting his fingers over his skin made him flinch. He had barely made it through work. The morning round had been a nightmare. There was no way he’d be able to keep this up. Not without help.

Casting one last sad look at the pathetic creature in the mirror, he pulled his clothes back on and walked out, careful to stay close to walls in case he needed support. When he finally sat down at the kitchen island he pulled out his phone. It took minutes of staring at a rarely used number before he could make himself use it.

The ringtones were long and went on for what seemed like forever until he could hear someone pick up.

“Yeah?” A clearly male voice came through the speakers. It took Alec with surprise. He had never really thought about who Molly lived with.

“Um… I’m looking for Molly. Hooper?” Hearing his own voice, made him shudder in disgust. He sounded pathetic.

“Yes, this is her phone, who is it?” The voice gave off a sense of authority. For some reason, an image of a lawyer, or maybe a doctor embedded itself in his mind.

“My name’s Alec. I uh…” But he was quickly abrupted. Not rudely, but efficiently.

“I’ll go get her, hang on.” He could hear someone moving on the other line, some walking, and then a yell. “Mollyyy! There’s someone calling!” Then it went quiet for a while until another voice spoke rather close to phone, but it was obvious to Alec that they weren’t speaking to him.

“I’d hurry if I were you, it sounds important. John is all excited.” A male voice. Sounded rather posh.

“Oh stop it! Who is it?” Molly’s kind voice held a tone of fond annoyance when she addressed, probably, the two men he’d heard earlier. The original man answered. The one supposedly called John. “Some bloke. Said his name’s Alec.”

“Gimme!” Molly’s tone changed immediately. Gone was her patients and fondness. She sounded eager and almost worried. Guilt for calling her started to pool in his gut.

“That’s an interesting reaction.” Posh guy again.

“Not now!” Molly’s voice came. Then there was moving again, and at last, he could clearly hear her. “Alec?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged a little, even though she couldn’t see him.

“I’m sorry, I’m at some friends. Are you alright?” For a moment his voice was clogged, but he managed to get a few words out before he was ready to throw his phone away. “I didn’t mean to intrude, I’ll call back.”

“Oh no! Don’t, I’m usually here. It’s nothing special. What’s happening?” She sounded genuinely interested and curious. It made him want to protect her even more, didn’t she know what was out there?

“I.. I know I usually only call about work, but…”

“But?”

“I… uh, you went to med school right?” Inwardly he cursed himself when he could hear her suspicious silence. Why couldn’t he just… talk to people?

“Yes. What’s going on Alec?”

He closed his hands into tight fists until his nails dug into his palms almost to the break of skin. “I could use some help…”

“Alec, what’s happened?” She voice was hushed, but to Alec, it seemed stronger than a scream.

“... There was a fight.”

“How badly hurt are you?” There were faint tremors in her voice, enough to tell him she was scared. He had known she cared. But this much? Not a single thing he’d done had made him deserving of that.

“Mostly bruised.”

“How bruised?” At the question, his mind drew at a blank. If she saw his bruises she would definitely force him to the hospital. And they would demand to know how he got his injuries there. How would he respond to that? ‘Yeah, a-Hispanic-vampire-with-the-face-of-an-angel have been stalking me for months and demanding my help, so we got into a fight, and then he almost bit a coworker’s friend who tried to help me.’ There’s no way he could explain that, and he’s not a good enough liar. And seeing as he must have been in a fight to sustain such injuries, that would mean that they would contact his supervisors. To live in his apartment, one of the demands was a calm lifestyle, just as jobs to support himself and to study a certain amount of hours every week. Fighting might mean he loses his apartment.

“How bruised Alec?” A small sigh managed to slip past his tightly shut lips, he’d come this far.

“Pretty.”

“I’m coming over. Do you have a medkit?” His eyes were immediately drawn to one of the lower cupboards in the kitchen, where a bright red metal box was hidden, filled to the brim.

“Yeah…”

“Nevermind, I’ll bring one. I’m coming right over.” Through the line, he could hear sounds like clothes moving together, and later steps.

“Thank you.”

“Thank me after. It’ll most likely hurt.” He held the phone tightly and closed his eyes for a second. Someone would help him. He wasn’t alone this time.

“Thank you, Molly.”

“See you soon.”

The call broke, and Alec brought the phone from his ear. It took a few minutes of looking at the dark device in his hands, to notice the cold breeze on his lower back. When he looked up he could easily spot where it was coming from. The kitchen window stood open. He walked over, wary for signs of a break-in. But the window simply stood open. With a frown, he closed it and locked. He never let his windows stand open, the risk of a breaking too great. Standing by the now closed window, he could feel the presence of someone behind him, could feel eyes watching him. Cold shivers went down his back, and just as he was about to turn, the sensation disappeared, and he found himself only staring at an empty kitchen.

-o-

Alec’s flat bathed in darkness. The sun had set, and Molly had left about an hour ago. He was sitting at the kitchen counter, carefully touching his jaw. It hurt, but Alec still felt warm inside. When Molly had burst through the door, the first thing she’d done had been to wrap her arms around his torso, and holding him. Not hard, but firm, careful not to hurt him, even though she didn’t know where he’d been hurt. After that, she’d completely taken control. Commanding him to sit down and taking his shirt off. She hadn’t gasped, but her brow had been deeply lined and her mouth a straight line. But she’d searched his wounds with precision and confidence, and after cleaning them and bandaging him a little all over, she’d merely looked at him. She hadn’t asked a single thing, but her sad gaze told him enough. After that, she’d cooked for the both of them. He had protested, of course, but she claimed that he was providing the food, so she might just as well cook it. When he brought up her taking care of his injuries, she’d only shook her head, and claimed that he’d do the same for her. And she was right. She usually was.

They had eaten. Talked, about everything. She’d told him about her friends: John Watson, a former army doctor, and none other than the famous Sherlock Holmes. He’d told her about Clary and Simon, and about his studies. They spend what seemed like an eternity like that, and Alec was happy. And then she had to leave, and so they had helped do the dishes, and she’d hugged him again, before stepping out the door with a last ‘take care of you’,

And so, Alec sat at the same kitchen counter, but everything had changed from only a few minutes earlier. It was empty and cold now. But he didn’t care much about that because the evidence of her was clear enough.

Alec had left the kitchen, cleaned himself, careful to keep the bandages dry, and turned towards his bedroom. Safely tucked down between the covers, just when he was about to turn off the lights, he’d caught a glimpse of something white and shiny. For a moment, he could have sworn it was a pair of eyes. But when he turned the lights back on, there was nothing there.

 -o-

It didn’t take long before Alec came home jet again to an open window. This time he knew he’d closed it before. With the knowledge that someone was in or had been in his apartment, he searched through every room for the intruder or a sign of them. But he’d found nothing. Before going to bed that day, he’d put a lock on his window, making it impossible to open without a key.

 -o-

The next evening when he returned home, he found all his windows closed, but a broken lock laid in the middle of his kitchen island.

 -o-

The next time Alec had felt the presence of someone, he’d turned around to see a flash of white teeth and heard a low laughter. It was gone so fast anyone else might have doubted they'd seen anything at all, but Alec had seen enough. He knew that smile, knew that laughter. Anger had his hands curling into fists.

 -o-

“Vampire.” Alec stood with his arms crossed, looking straight at the shadows of a corner. The silence filled the room the same way music does, slowly. But at last something darker emanated from the shadows and created the shape of a man.

“So you got it at last?” Raphael took a step into the light, with a playfulness in his steps. Now that Alec knew, it was like he saw everything again. How the man’s skin seemed almost to be painted, not a hint of blush or anything flawed for that matter. His appearance was the one of a statue. Something lifeless. His hair and eyes held the black of the night, and his teeth the white of newly fallen snow. He was close, very close, but something made him stand out from other humans. His perfection made him an obvious pariah.

“I don’t appreciate creatures, human or not, breaking into my home.”

“Then why make it so easy?” He took another few steps forward, his hands carelessly resting in the pockets of his trousers, shoulders low and relaxed. His eyes locked onto Alec’s, an open challenge.

“I won’t agree.”

“I guess I'll make myself at home then.”

 -o-

“Really?” Alec had only just stepped into his apartment when he’d spotted a familiar figure at the end of the hall. Half hidden in the shadows, but Alec had come to recognise which shadows were empty, and which weren’t.

He said nothing but stretched forward an arm to turn on the lights. As they chased the shadows away, Alec got a full glimpse of the vampire, clad in a suit whose mere presence heightened the value of Alec’s apartment.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” He took off his jacket and dropped his bag on the floor. When he looked up again, Raphael only shrugged. Alec sighed.

“I’m tired. Just… get out of here. I’m heading to the bathroom, when I’m back, you’d better be gone.”

 -o-

Alec had just turned off his alarm clock and after a minute of quiet negotiations with himself left the warmth of his bed. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he left his bedroom. The entire flat was drenched in darkness, it being far too early for the sun to rise. He walked by a window on his way to the kitchen and gave a quick stop to look at the city outside, lit up by streetlights. Turning away he reached out for the light switch.

“For fuck’s sake! Come on!” When Alec had lit the room and seen a man, his first reaction had been to turn off the lights. But the second he had it hit him who he’d seen and he shouted out in anger, as he turned the lights back on.

“Missed me?” Raphael leant one arm on the kitchen island, a looped smile on display. His suit perfect as always and not a hair out of line, as he took in the sight of Alec in a pair of old sweatpants and a too big, black shirt.

“It’s two in the morning!” A sudden desire to hide from Raphael hit Alec, and he grabbed a hoodie laying forgotten on one of the stools. Pulling it on made him feel a bit better.

“How observant of you.”

“Don’t you ever sleep?!” Alec had placed himself across from the where Raphael was leaning, careful to keep the kitchen island between them.

“Yes. But not very often.” At the answer, Alec took a moment to close his eyes and to breathe out his frustration before he regained eye contact with the vampire.

“Fine, just move out of the way. I need coffee for this.” He walked over to the cupboards to pull out the tin containing the coffee powder.

“I’ll have a cup.” Alec could hear Raphael moving behind him, and at his request, he turned his head just the slightest bit back and said calmly:

“No, you won’t.”

 -o-

Coming out from the bathroom wearing sweatpants once more, with wet hair and a slightly damp back, Alec walked out to be met with an icy breeze. Locating the source of the cold, he searched for the expected figure. Finding Raphael looking through his fridge he rolled his eyes and yelled: “It’s freezing, close the window!”

“Apologies.” The man closed the fridge looking almost embarrassed and walked over to close the wide open kitchen window.

“Why are you here?”

Raphael barely spared him a glance. “You know why.”

“Just for me to help you?”

“Yes.” He moved over to Alec’s sparsely decorated living room and sat down on the couch with a leg pulled up and nonchalantly pulling out a phone from his pocket.

“You gotta be pretty desperate or loony to come to me.” He had followed him to the other room and now stood hovering awkwardly in the doorway. He felt like a stranger in his own home

“Yes.” The answer came carelessly without glancing up from the screen of his phone. After some silence, Alec sat down in one of the two armchairs.

“So while you are here, I might just as well. What is true and what is a myth?”

“In general or a specific subject?” deeming himself done, the man put the phone back and returned his attention to Alec.

“Vampires.”

A tiny smile appeared at the very corner of the man’s lips.“Ahh. Well. Most have some level of truth. Not all.”

“Sunlight?” Alec sat forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands held together, to stop them from nervously fidgeting.

“Nu-uh.” The creature in question had a very different position. His entire frame screamed confidence and ease. The couch belonged to him and he knew it. It was almost as if he was holding a court in Alec’s living room, and he clearly held the role of a ruler.

“Blood?”

“Needed.” The man shrugged like it meant little to him.

“Krosses?”

Suddenly Raphael's demeanour changed drastically. Gone was his relaxed posture and easy smile. Gone was his radiating confidence and arrogance. He sat stiffly on the couch now, looking almost as if he was sitting on something painful. He seemed just about as uncomfortable as Alec had been earlier.  
“Complicated.”

“Are you religious?” and just like that, it was gone. Like nothing had happened. He merely smiled at Alec again, but there was a sharper undertone this time.

“I wouldn’t tell you.”

 -o-

A few days later, and another couple of brief questionings, Alec came home to find his kitchen floor covered in shattered pieces of glass, as well an empty gaping hole where his kitchen window was meant to be. To add to the mess, there were spread out drops of a familiar red liquid and a silver knife laid tossed on the floor. Alec bent down to look a little closer and recognised the silver knife as the one he’d been given the day he turned 18 by his foster family. One of his few prized possessions. Standing up again, Alec noticed a yellow sticker on his windowsill. In a rather beautiful handwriting it said:

I apologise for the mess I’ve caused. The repair of the damages including the cost will be on me. -RS

 -o-

“Who are you?” Alec looked at one of the two strange men standing outside his door.

“Mr Santiago sent us. You have a broken window?” The man seemed to be in his late thirties and had a deep, hoarse voice. His head was bald, but his beard mighty and strongly ginger. He didn’t seem like some thug or even a vampire. He looked rather human, there was even a pimple on his nose.

“Yeah… What’ll I owe you?” Alec held back a sign and dug into his pants to find his already strained wallet. The money inside was meant for this weeks food shopping.

“Nothing. Mr Santiago has already covered everything. He also asked us to fix anything else if you need it?” For some reason, Alec’s eyes kept going back to the beard. It was impressive. And so very ginger. Looking up and realising the man still waited for answers, he tried to remember it anything else could be done.

“... There is a difficult pipe in the bathroom, connected to the shower. And the bedroom window is stuck.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll handle everything. The mister paid well.” With that the two men stepped past Alec and into his house, quickly disappearing behind a corner.

“Why am I not surprised?”

 -o-

“Does silver hurt you?” Raphael looked up at Alec’s question, with a raised eyebrow. His charcoal eyes pierced Alec’s before he looked away with a shrug.

“... Rather like poison. Very unpleasant to the touch.” Alec considered that for a while. He'd pretty much abandoned his hopes to be productive and sat with his textbooks and notes shoved aside and a half empty coffee mug in his hands.

“Werewolves?” At that, a snort left Raphael. Looking up in amusement, he gave Alec a predatory grin.

“Good way to torture them.”

“Have you?” Alec felt himself going cold with dread as the thought formed and left his mouth.

“Have I what?”

“Tortured one?” He abruptly put down his mug as not to crush it.

“¡No seas tonto! That’s against the law.”

“You have a law?”

“Unfortunately quite a few.” Raphael proceeded by saying: ‘The law is the law’. In an old man's voice and thereafter laughed mockingly.

“I don’t get it.” The smile given to Alec after his voiced confusion was nothing else than pitying.

“It’s a joke between downworlders.”

 -o-

Alec took one step into his bedroom and heard the ill-boding sound of something shattering under his foot. Turning his gaze down he could see how his floor was covered in bits and scraps, and the sight filled him with unease. But it's only a little mess, and he had workers here, so it ought to be expected right? He moved on to take a look at his window. It opened smoothly in one easy motion letting the cold evening air in, messing up Alec’s hair in the process and filling his lungs with cool air, enough to calm him down after he'd taken a few breaths. He’d recently sent in an assignment and the stress and uncertainty of the grading had left him in a nervous, twitchy state all day. But as he took a few breaths he could feel the anxious energy leaving him, little by little. He carefully closed the window and looked at his own reflection in the glass. The cut had almost healed, only a weak red line was left and the bruises a fading yellow. It made him look slightly nauseous, but the relief of knowing they’d be gone soon weighed heavier than his appearance ever could. If the bruises went away at least people wouldn't turn their heads after him. It was hard enough to disappear with his height and affinity for black clothes, but add the covering bruises, and his hopes of being ignored were pretty much gone. Looking at his reflection he noticed something else. Behind him, shown in the reflection, laid something that definitely shouldn't be there. Turning around with wild eyes he loomed in on the object being half shoved under his bed. Carefully kneeling down he picked up a journal. Except for the big dusty footprint on the cover, the book had been partly bent and looked rather ready to be thrown away. It was old and thumbed and would from the appearance give the impression of being filled to the brim with hand written pages. But when Alec opened it and scrolled through the pages they merely blinked emptily at him. Closing the journal he held it tightly and pulled it towards his chest. Tears build up in his eyes and he sat slightly swaying, bent over the book. But the sudden noise of someone opening the window in the kitchen had Alec stirring and storming out in fury. Charging into the room and putting a hand on Raphael's chest he pushed the confused vampire back until his back hit the cupboards. Standing with locked eyes for a while Alec suddenly stepped back like he’d gotten burned and looked at the man in disdain and torment.

“Alec? Whats going on?” Raphael took a small step away from the cupboards, keeping his hand in front of him, showing he planned on keeping his distance.

“I was just starting to trust you. How could you?” There was a pain in his own voice that had a part of Alec turning in resentment. All his life he’d been taught not to show weakness. But the bigger part of him needed so desperately to do something with the pain he was feeling.

“Could what?” The vampire was still keeping a visible distance but moved uncertainly at Alec’s words. Alec signed at his open bedroom and the obvious mess there. Seeing the room, the vampire relaxed somewhat. His arms fell to his side and he gave a shrug. “That’s unavoidable when repairs are made in such a small space. I’m sure they’ll clean up when they’re done.”

“I don’t give a rats ass about the mess. I care that they… that they…” Alec felt his throat tightening around his words, and turned his head away, seeking shelter behind his fringe and the shadows it cast on his face. Raphael took a step closer to Alec, bending to try and see his face. “What?”

“They were in my secretary! They touched my things! They ruined some… things that matter.”

“I’m sorry. I am. Tell me what and I’ll replace it.” In spite of it, his face was the sincerest Alec had ever seen it. It only served to make him angrier.

“That’s all it is to you? Stuff? Things to replace? Buy a new suit when the old one gets a stain, buy a new home, a new friend? Do you even have any?”

“I don’t know what’s got you so worked up Alec, but whatever reason does not give you the right to take it out on me.”

“You’re really going to lecture me on rights? You’ve been ignoring mine for months!”

“Calm down.” There was a sharp tone in his voice that made a part of Alec shudder, a small twinge of fear.

“No! You've been making my life worse from the second you showed up! Molly, Clary, my boss, they’re all asking questions. About my life. Am I in trouble? Should they be worried? I could lose my job, my apartment and even my university spot if they think I’m not doing right by them. If they think I’m living risky. That fight, my boss had to give me other duties because I scared away the customers. Thank god they didn’t fire me. I can’t be trouble, but you don’t get that do you? Because you got that perfect life with all your perfect money. You don’t give a shit, do you? You just want me to fix some shit for you, so it won’t bother you anymore. But you know what? Fuck you.”

“Alec enough. Stop this.” Ignoring the way Alec shielded away from his presence the vampire keep at it until his hands held him firmly in place. The surprising act took the words from his throat. The last time they’d touched, it’d been to punch each other's faces in.

“What did they do?” he asked, “What did they ruin?”

“This.” Alec held up the ragged book for Raphael to see. He held it carefully, even though his mind was screaming.

“A journal?”

“Yes. A journal.” Alec pulled away from the older man’s grip, carefully but determined. Turning his back, he went to put it on the kitchen island, as to not ruin it further. Behind his back he heard first the man move, and later speak:

“I understand your point. But it really is just a journal. It can’t be that valuable.” In a flash of movement, he turned back towards Raphael. “It is!”

The man took a step around Alec and picked up the book from the counter. After having opened it and staring at the empty pages he turned to Alec with confusion written on his otherwise expressionless face. “It’s empty.”

“It meant something alright! It belonged to someone I knew, and now they’re gone. And that was all I had.”

“You never used it. You what? Had it lying around in some drawer? What use is that? Honour your fallen ones by writing in it, not stuffing it away.” Almost carelessly throwing the book back onto the counter the man never once broke eye contact with Alec.

“Shut up! You know nothing!”

“Then tell me instead of yelling at me!” One step forward.

“There’s no point.” Alec takes one step back, sinking into himself.

“Get a new journal! Write for them. Honour them.” Once again Raphael moves towards Alec, but Alec moves back.

“He’s not dead! Just… gone. “

“… Why are you mad at me then?” Raphael stood in silence waiting for an answer, but when none presented itself, his hand shot forward to grab the man’s arm, but Alec pulled away and moved even further away. They had left the kitchen now, and the door to Alec’s apartment was only a few steps to the vampires right.

“Who was he?”

“Just… some kid. We lived together for a while. Same foster home. His name was Thomas.”

“You said he wasn't dead. Go find him. Solve …. Whatever happened between you. “

“So what, I’ll stop yelling at you? Stop being angry. So I’ll help you? Fix your problems?” Filling up with energy Alec straightened, almost towering over the shorter man.

“Really Alec? Here again?”

“Yeah. Here. Maybe you should leave. You know, go back to your coffin and your other dead pals.” Alec began herding Raphael towards the door, one step at a time.

“You really should calm down.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me? Nope. No can do. You need me. Will you feed off of me? Force me to help you with whatever?”

“Stop this!” Only a foot away from the door the vampire stood firmly and refused to be pushed further. He looked at Alec with a mix of sadness and anger.

“No! It was all I had of him! After he was gone it was all I had. He gave that book to me, and I can’t just buy a new one and move on!” The confession slipping out from Alec without permission had the anger seeping away from the vampire's eyes, only to be replaced with a kind of understanding that had Alec’s blood boil.

“Alec? … I don’t …”

“Just go.” Shoving Raphael to the side, Alec opened the door and motioned for Raphael to leave.

“Please….”

“Go! Get out of here! I never wanna see you again! You hear me? Never! And no more money, no more fixing things. No nightly visits, no break ins. If I ever see you again I’ll see how silver affects you closely yeah? Now get out!” One strong push had Raphael stumbling back through the door.

“Don’t do this.”

Without looking closer Alec closed the door and locked it. Letting out a long sigh, Alec whispered to the quiet of the apartment.  
“Farewell Raphael.”


	4. Intoxicated by purple nipples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter didn't take long at all... no. Anyway! For your information, this fic is not abandoned. Only under very slow construction. Ya. Happy Holiday and/or Winter break!

“I have a plan.”

 

Simon looked up from the Wikipedia page he was currently browsing for a school project. “To conquer the world, to avoid class, to buy the most awesome birthday present for your mum? So many options.“, He asked Clary after she’d stormed out from the bakery and to his table littered with various items. She hadn’t even changed her apron.

 

“No you twat, although I will buy an awesome gift for my mum, I’m talking about Alec.” She absentmindedly tried to get some of her unruly hair to stay behind her ears.

 

“We're not avoiding the Alec topic anymore?”

 

“Shut up.” She swatted at his arm. “You said we didn't know him, so let's change that.“

 

Simon gave her one of his best ‘are-you-out-of-your-mind’ looks. “Alec’s about as chatty as a rock. How do you suppose we get to know him?”

 

“What are you doing tonight?” She batted her eyelashes, but for some reason, it made him apprehensive, instead of filling him up as usual with butterflies. But he quickly disregarded that remark.

 

“I was thinking something in the line of re-watching Star Wars to see how far I can get before I pass out.” Closing his computer he turned towards her. Her hair was messy, a line of flour on her forehead and her freckles strewn on her skin like stars in the night sky. Well, the way the sky looked like when it wasn’t hidden behind city smog or the artificial light from skyscrapers.

 

“That's an admirable plan, but how do you feel about going out?”

 

“Unconvinced.“

 

Clary moved in her chair. “How about if I say I've found out where Alec spends his Fridays?”

 

“Online stalking is one thing, real life on the other hand-”

 

“Oh my god, Simon! He works at a bar!”

 

Simon tried to combine an inner picture of Alec with a bar, but he simply couldn’t. He sat in silence for a while, refusing to give up, until he noticed he hadn’t answered Clary. He got out a weak: “He does?“

 

“Yes! One of the bakers told me he works at a place called the ‘Roadhouse’ not too far from here. Every Friday and Saturday.“ She crossed her legs while absentmindedly looking through the various books and notes on his table.

 

“The man works on Saturdays?“

 

“So do I.“ She shrugged.

 

“Yeah, but that means he works six days a week.“ He tried catching her eye, but when she turned her head to him she didn’t seem shocked at all.

 

“Are you really surprised?“

 

The question took him a little by surprise. He had never even considered that Alec might have another job. But that explained why he crammed in his studying on his breaks. “I guess not. So what does your brilliant plan entail? And mostly why do I have to come?”

 

“Because.” Clary let her hands slide off the books and instead had her elbows placed on her knees, supporting her weight as she leaned forward, towards Simon. “I don't fancy spending a Friday evening alone with Alec. I need backup. Besides, you were the one pointing out we didn't know him, so now you have to help me fix that. “

 

Simon looked at her. He remembered how upset she’d been to realise she barely knew Alec at all. And then he thought about that one Thursday. He was the one who’d wanted to know more about him in the first place. This was his chance. “Fine. The plan?”

 

Clary shrugged again. “My plan was mostly there to convince you to come with me. I mean how hard can it be?“

 

He shook his head. “Hard. Very, very, very hard. Like extremely out of the world kinda hard. Rock remember?“

 

“Um.” Clary made a face.

 

Simon started to rewind his own words and felt his cheeks redden. “I realise that was oddly sexual now, I did not mean it like that. At all. I-”

 

“It's cool Simon. Leave it yeah?” Clary waved a little awkwardly with her hand. They both fell silent and looked at each other again for some time in silence. Suddenly Clary straightened and chipped: “Mum’s ordering tacos tonight.”

 

Simon could feel his stomach growl with anticipation. “From that supersupersuper place?”

 

“Where else?” She smiled. He smiled back.

 

“I'll be there.” After nodding, Clary jumped up from her chair and turned to leave. Barely a few steps gone a thought hit Simon with the speed of a meteorite and he almost fell out of his chair in his attempt to turn around to stop Clary. Clary turned her head with a questioning smile. “Umm...”, Simon cleared his throat and pushed up his glasses further on his nose, “By the way have you seen that guy with the-” Simon gestured with one hand at his hair, “and the” he vaguely gestured towards his lips “you know the” lastly he gestured at his clothes. “uh...?”

 

There’s a laugh hiding behind her closed mouth, but she let an unsteady breath out and answered him more seriously. “Uh no. Not in a while. That's strange actually. I don't think I've seen him in over a week.“ Her brows pulled down in confusion.

 

“Huh.” Simon turned back again, expecting Clary to leave.

 

“Raphael.“ He turned back to see Clary smiling a very soft smile.

 

“What?”

 

“Raphael. He told me his name’s Raphael.“ The corners of her mouth pulled further up in amusement.

 

Simon could feel himself freeze, then start sweating and lastly in a panic mumble something along the lines of: “Oh. Right. I didn't know that. Thanks. I mean I wasn’t looking for his name but now that I know I should say thanks. Right?”

 

He can see Clary still smiling as she leaves. “You’re welcome Simon.“

  


-o-

  


“I have a bad feeling about this.”, Simon muttered as he walked beside Clary down some street he didn’t care to memorize. There were pools of rainwater on the pavement, left from earlier this morning. He kept pulling at his scarf, his mum wouldn't let him out without it, but it was getting way too hot for it, he could feel his neck turning moist and sticky from sweat. Clary didn’t seem to care much about Simon’s concerns but instead marched happily on. Every now and then she pulled up her phone to check their location on Google Maps.

 

“Simon,” she started, “you had a bad feeling about that bug bite on your foot.”

 

Simon could feel familiar embarrassment wash over him. “It was really big!” But Clary wasn’t listening.

 

“There look. In there.“ She was pointing at a neon sign in red. It blended in with the other shops and signs, and if she hadn't pointed it out he probably wouldn't have noticed it.

 

“What did you say it was named again? The road kill?“ he squinted at the sign but they were too far away for him to be able to read it clearly.

 

“RoadHOUSE.“

 

Simon shrugged and kept walking. “He is not gonna like it if we just show up.” Clary came running up to his side, her brow furrowed.

 

“He'll like it.”

 

“No, he won't.“ Simon felt a stab in his side and moved quickly to the side to avoid another one of Clary’s elbows.

 

“Have a little faith in us Simon. He'll like it.”

 

He shook his head and rubbed his side. “Unconvinced. Unconvinced!“

 

“Shhh! Ready?” Clary had walked up to the old and not very inviting door. Her hand lay on the handle but her eyes were locked to his, waiting for a sign.

 

“No,” Simon muttered and watched Clary open the door.

 

They took a few steps in and were met with a warm light and the low rumbling of several conversations. The bar was not even half full but those there seemed to be familiar with the place and people and somehow the place didn't even remotely feel empty. By the bar, a bit further into the room a familiar head with a black mess of a hair was turned away. Simon gave a weak wave in his direction to get Clary’s attention. Her eyes did that thing when they twinkle and she resolutely grabbed his hand and pulled him with her towards the counter.

 

”Alec! Hi!”

 

It was hard to say exactly what he was thinking when he slowly and stiffly turned towards Clary. His mouth remained a thin line as they came up to the bar. Putting both of his hands on the counter and leaning forward he managed to capture both of their eyes. With a hushed voice, he hissed out: “What are you doing here? I'm working. I don't have time to do whatever you have in mind.”

 

Not in the slightest put off Clary rolled her eyes and gave him a patronising smile. ”Oh come on Alec! We just wanna get to know you.”

 

Alec glanced away from Clary and focused on Simon. He rose his left eyebrow with a calculating expression on his stern face.

 

”Truly,“ Simon said with little enthusiasm.

 

After a moment of consideration, Alec leaned back and gestured towards the stools next to them. “I can't throw you out without a good reason.“

 

“Charming,” Simon muttered under his breath, but Clary still heard him if the hard step on his foot was anything to go by.

 

“What can I do for you?“ Alec, not seemingly having noticed, gestured vaguely behind him to the bar in general.

 

”Beer?“

 

“IDs.” he held out his open hand. There was a minuscule twitch in the corner of his mouth that told Simon he was messing with them deliberately.

 

“What, you know how- “ but again Clary hit him to shut him up and handed over her own ID. After a pointed look, he handed over his own ID. Alec looked at them carefully and then had his lips turn into a cold resemble of a smile.

 

“Coming right up.“

 

When Alec had turned away Simon immediately turned to lean towards Clary. “He's not happy.”

 

“Of course he's not. Not yet.” She brushed away some strands of hair and crossed her legs where she sat on the stool.

 

“How are you doing it? The eternal optimism?”

 

“Someone's got to.“ She smiled and Simon felt himself melting right then and there.

 

Alec's voice interrupted his honey coated thoughts. “Here.” A glass was put down in front of him. While he immediately took the glass and sipped on the beverage Clary stayed more polite and thanked him.

 

Alec looked around him, as if to will someone to show up and require his attention but beyond Clary and Simon the only others in the bar were two older men in a lively discussion about what appeared to be… Yup. Cars. Alec realising he had no way out of his current situation let out a deep sigh and crossed his arms. It seemed to make him more comfortable.

 

“Why are you really here?”

 

Clary put down her own glass. “Because I had to find out from someone else that you even had another job. We had no idea.“ She gestured at Simon. ”Why didn't you want us to know?”

 

The question had Alec restlessly moving in his spot. After a while, he shrugged. “It never seemed important.”

 

“Friends usually tell each other stuff you know“. When Alec turned to him he had to suppress a shiver. Suddenly he couldn't get the image of Alec punching Raphael out of his mind.

 

“Are we friends?“ Alec asked. Simon turned away his gaze. Clary laughed.

 

“We want to be,“ she said kindly.

 

Again Alec let the silence be for a long few minutes before his posture sagged slightly and he let his arms fall to his sides. He took a deep breath, as if to calm himself, and spoke. “I work at the café Mondays to Thursdays. I deliver mail on mornings Mondays to Fridays and I work here Fridays and Saturdays.“

 

Simon almost choked on his drink. Once he was sure he wouldn't die from coughing he managed to hiss out: “Three?! You've got three jobs?!“

 

“Yes. Problem?“

 

“That's really impressive.” Clary butted in.

 

“Post Delivery though? How early is that?“ Simon's voice was still uneven from his undignified coughing but that did not stop him. However, Alec simply shrugged at the question.

 

“My shifts start at four.”

 

A short silence followed. Clary sipped on her drink, waiting for someone to speak.

 

“How could you ever get used to that?” Simon choked out eventually. Alec shrugged again.

 

“It’s… a little tough sometimes.”

 

“Yeah wow.” Clary shook her head lightly. ”I’ve only ever worked back at Aunt’s, and some of those morning shifts I take before class, ugh. I can barely get up.”

 

Alec cracked half a smile at that. “It depends on when you go to sleep as well I suppose.”

 

“If you start at four, you go up at like two or something? Three? That’s still… to get even sex or seven hours of sleep you have to be asleep by eight.” Simon and Clary shared a look. That explained some things.

 

“Pretty much.”

 

”… Man.”

 

“Simon’s never had a real job.”

 

“That is classified information, Clary! Betrayal!” He stared at her, surprised and less angry then he would normally have been. Alec tried to not very discreetly hide how his upturned lips had turned into a full-on smile.

 

”He’s only ever worked for like his mom’s neighbours to mow their lawn and whatever else they want. And then there was that time you sold ice cream an entire summer to gather money for that school project… what was it again?” She smiled and her cheeks had a nice red tinge to them. Simon stared at them for a little bit too long before mumbling out: “Don’t poke the wounded. You know very well that that project flopped, I am still recovering from the embarrassment.”

 

Suddenly a customer turned up and waved for Alec who left with an “excuse me” and an actual apologetic smile. Having been saved for the moment Simon picked up his glass and drained it. The unexpectedly provoked memory of light, cold breath on his neck sent a shiver of excitement, and something else he didn't want to think more about, down his spine, but he shoved it away. Now was not the time.

 

”He told us about his work! Don’t pout. It’s going well.” Clary having misinterpreted his silence put an encouraging hand on his arm. It didn't warm him like it usually did.

 

“I saw Alec smile. I don’t know what you did but there was a smile.” The new voice and appearance of a new person by their side unsettled them both.

 

“Oh hi, I’m sorry-” But Clary’s apology was abrupted unfinished. The woman stretched out her hand.

 

“My bad. Jo Harvelle, my mom owns this place.“ She gave a looped smile, and her eyes twinkled with playfulness. Clary took her hand and shook it.

 

“Clary Fray. I work with Alec.”

 

“Simon Lewis. I get served by him sometimes. He doesn’t smile then either.” He gave a shrug. To his surprise, the woman laughed.

 

“That’s Alec. I’ve tried teaching him to smile politely at least, but that was a true nightmare.“ She laughed a little to herself. Her playful attitude and relaxed posture were infectious and Simon found a content smile play on his lips.

 

”Are you from America?”

 

Jo nodded to answer Clary’s question. “Yeah, born and raised. We moved here when I was thirteen.“

 

“You’ve known Alec for a while then?”

 

“For the time he’s been here, yeah. He first came here when he was 18 I think, my mum hired him for a summer to clean mostly. Then he came back almost two years ago, and we hired him as a bartender. I taught him myself actually.“

 

“His dark-mysterious-broody aura kinda fits the place.” Simon said, but almost immediately backtracked and felt his cheeks flush, “I don’t mean broody in a bad way!”

 

“No worries.” Jo’s eyes twinkled. “But beer? That’s all you got? Here. We call ‘em purple nurples.” Jo pulled up some shot-glasses and whipped together a dark liquid, that she poured into them. When Simon picked one up to look at it closer he saw that it was dark purple. Jo flashed him a smile, and then she was gone as suddenly as she had arrived. Instead, Alec walked over. His brow was furrowed like it seemed to be at least 80% of the time. He turned briefly to look over his shoulder. “What did she say?”

 

“Um...”

 

Alec’s gaze travelled to the still-full glass in Simon’s hand. “She gave you the purple nurples.” His face turned even sterner.

 

“Yeah. She seemed nice, you good friends?” He said deflecting the matter.

  


-o-

  


“These purple nurple things are really funny. Sounds like purple nipples.” Simon couldn't quite keep from giggling. He knew he was drunk, and he knew he usually didn’t drink, which made it worse. But all his thoughts of tomorrow and limitations seemed to slip away, and instead he relished in the smiles Clary kept giving him, the giddiness filling his body and the warm atmosphere the bar provided. He knew his cheeks must be flushed and that there were probably small sweat stains under his arms, but Clary was giggling with him, and Alec, stern, cold Alec was smiling exasperatedly at them.

 

“Oh my god Simon.“ Clary had to put down her glass, her small frame shaking with repressed laughter.

 

“I think that’s enough for both of you.” Alec took Clary’s almost empty glass and Simon’s half-filled one and move them out of their reach. Simon pouted a little but Clary put a hand on his shoulder and immediately had his attention.

 

“You know, I want to move out. Mum is driving me nuts, always on me like: where was I, where am I going and I’m tired of it. Simon. Simon, should we move out?” Her face looked at him seriously with her big green eyes cornering him. Simon squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze.

 

“Mum’s cookin’s really nice.” He murmured under his breath, but loud enough for Clary to catch.

 

“Oh, come on Simon. We could be roommates!” She landed a playful fist on his arm.

 

“Flatmates.”

 

“Whatever.” Her hands made a disregarding gesture. “It would be awesome!”

 

Alec chuckled. “It costs a bit to own an apartment, even if you are two. You might have to get a job, Simon.”

 

“Mmm, maybe.”

 

“Where do _you_ live Alec?” Clary turned her eyes to him.

 

Before he could answer there came a happy gasp from Simon. “You can show on google maps!”

 

” … Sure.” Alec took the outstretched phone and typed in something in the search bar. ”There, that building. Floor 4 apartment 12.“ Alec pointed to the red dot on the map. Then he clicked into street view and the apartment building showed up on the screen.

 

“It looks nice.”

 

A low hum was the only answer.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Steady. Steady.“ Alec took a hold of Simon’s wavering figure, stopping him from tripping over his own feet and falling headfirst into the pavement.

 

“M’ supersteady.” Without really seeming to notice Simon grabbed ahold of Alec’s sleeve and leaned onto him.

 

“No, you’re not.“

 

Clary poked him with her finger and watched how he almost fell, dragging Alec with him. “You are wasted, Simon.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“I don’t think I’m too far off either though.”, she responded, giggling and twirling around.

 

“Watch your step.” Alec kept an eye on Clary as he also tried to keep Simon from falling over every three steps.

 

“Oops.”

 

He wouldn't ever admit it to anyone, but it was nice walking home with someone. The night air was cool and crisp as if they were far outside of London. The background noise: the cars, the talking and laughing and the occasional siren, it was all faded and unimportant. The slightly wet pavement turned into a sea of light with the reflecting neon sign and streetlamps. Simon hung onto him, smelling of alcohol, sweat and vaguely of shampoo. Clary was a blur of green and orange, pale skin and twinkly eyes. Alec shouldn’t find their presence comforting, but he did. He knew they weren’t alone, you’re never quite alone in a big city like London, and even though he could see two strangers walking the road towards them, he had the almost tangible feeling of being alone, in the best of ways.

 

“What are you humming?”

 

At his question, Clary walked up to them, close enough to hear Simon’s humming and then threw her head back and laughed. “It’s the harry potter song.”

 

Simon turned to her and put an accusing finger in her chest. “Hedwig’s theme song!”

 

Clary only shook her head and walked backwards away from his finger. Before Alec had time to warn her she walked straight into the dark figure of a man.

 

“Hey, can you watch where you’re going?” Clary stood, impressively, without a wobble or any other sign of being drunk, and looked straight into the eyes of a blonde man around the same age. Too late Alec recognised the glamour covering the man.

 

A deep silence seemed to cover the street as the man observed Clary, his eyes conveying his surprise, and the turn of his lips his interest. Keeping his eyes away from the man’s, Alec struggled to come up with something to get them away from the potential threat.

 

“You can see me?”

 

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point but you obviously didn’t see me.”

 

Fumbling for something, anything, Alec decided to do what he usually does when he meets people with glamours: He ignores them. “Clary what are you doing, let’s go.” He walked a little closer pulling along a confused Simon.

 

“Yeah who you talkin’ to?”

 

“You have the sight.” The man said, ignoring, in turn, Alec and Simon. His eyes firm and unwavering on Clary.

 

“Wait the what?”

 

“Clary let’s go. Simon needs to get home.” Alec reached out to gently nudge Clary, keeping well out of the stranger’s range.

 

“How can I not know who you are?” Alec looked up long enough to catch sight of a pair of stunning eyes, full lips and blonde strands of hair brushed to the side. The man was ~~beautiful~~ not human.

 

“Has that line seriously ever worked for you? Even once?”

 

Feeling desperate Alec carefully let go of Simon, making sure he could stand on his own first and went to grab Clary’s arm. Grasping her maybe a little too tight he bent down by her ear and hissed: ”Let’s go. Now.”

 

Suddenly a woman’s voice rang out through the silence, and Alec had to steal himself as to no flinch. He still couldn’t stop himself from meeting the eyes of a woman in a white wig. Her word was still ringing in the silence around them. The man turned to her after one last look at Clary and half ran to catch up with her. His name buzzed in Alec’s ears. _Jace._

 

“Can you guys believe that blonde dude-”

 

“You mean the imaginary dude you were talking to?” Not minding their conversation, Alec resumed his hold on Simon and continues dragging him along.

 

“No the guy right there.” Clary gestures towards the now distant silhouettes of the mysterious pair.

 

“Clary, there’s nobody there.”

 

”The guy covered in tatts, like…”

 

“What guy are you talking about?”

 

“Nevermind that now, let’s go!” Alec follows up on his words with a pointed look at both of them.

 

”You guys seriously didn’t see him?

 

”No.” Simon and Alec manage to say in unison.

 

“Can you stop making me feel insane?”

 

“Can you stop ac-”

 

“Clary! Simon’s drunk. You’re drunk. We’re on the streets of London at two in the morning. Let’s go!”

  


-o-

  


Alec shook his head, smiling to himself. He had found out which baker had told Clary where he worked, and after having threatened to give out their home address to her, he’d gotten a promise that they would never again share anything about his private life.

 

He quickly untied the grey apron and put on the pink, and pushed the door open with one hand as he tugged one last time on the awful piece of clothing he was forced to wear. He nodded to the girl behind the register, and she gave a relieved sigh and passed him, heading home. The same minute a man in a suit walked up and started reciting a complicated and expensive order. Alec felt the desire to snap out that the man wasn’t actually in a coffee shop, but a smaller café, but instead bit his tongue and wrote the order down. Something he didn’t usually have to do, but this was _complicated_ and _fancy_ and _expensive_.

 

When he finally put down the finished drink he felt a little smug when he saw the man’s surprised look at how quickly his drink had been made. He looked ready to object, but then shut his mouth and took the drink and left. When Alec returned to the next customer, the next person in the queue caught his eye. Alec recognised the beautiful golden hair, the muscular frame and the mystical tattoos all over his bare arms. He could feel a knot forming in his stomach, sweat breaking out on his neck and his eyelids twitching. He avoided eye contact, and instead focused on finishing the customer's order, picking out the blueberry muffins and typing in the order in the cash register. He couldn’t quite manage a smile as his customer left and he was left with the man- Jace- watching his every move.

 

He moved away from the register when there were no other customers to serve but the man, who still had the shimmering glamour over him like a second skin. With his eyes on his back, he took the bucket to gather up used dishes, and he could feel more than actually see or hear the man following him. When he turned after having emptied a table, Jace stood directly behind him and without having time to change course, he walked straight into him. His entire frame shook from the force of the collision, it was like walking into a solid tree, but he kept walking. Made it look like he thought he stumbled on something on the ground instead. But he kept his eyes locked forward and his teeth clenched, even as he began emptying the next cluttered table.

 

Eventually, Jace took to standing beside him as he picked up the dishes from yet another table. Alec could feel the heat radiating from the other man, that's how close he stood. And when he spoke his voice had every hair on Alec’s neck standing straight up. He could only hope the man didn’t notice.

 

“You’re just a mundane aren’t you? You’re nothing special. Just as thick, clumsy and unaware as all the other little shits. You can’t even tell I’m here.” He tilted his head and when Alec’s eyes passed him briefly he noticed his eyes held a peculiar shade of almost gold.

 

“Your friend on the other hand. That ginger one, she’s one special snowflake. Mundanes with the sight, that is rare, if she even is a mundane. She had no problem telling me off, I kinda enjoyed it, but it gave me my doubts about her blood. You, on the other hand, you must’ve thought she was insane.” The man gave a cold chuckle.

 

“Alright then. You obviously can’t see me. Don’t know why Izzy was so sure you’d seen her. If you had I doubt you’d be picking used cutlery at the moment, you’d be running after her like every other man she’s ever looked at. Maybe you’d be an exception though, you do seem even thicker than most mundanes.” Alec focused on keeping his breath even as he straightened and got ready to leave the table, and then the man’s arm reached into his vision, pointing at a stain he’d previously missed. “There, you missed a spot.” Alec froze, but Jace didn’t notice, his back already turned, well on his way out of the shop. When Alec was sure he’s gone, he quickly wiped away the stain and left the table.

 

His hands were shaking.

  


-o-

  


Alec was exhausted. His muscles all knotted up, sweat stains on the back of his black tee and a nervous twitch keeping his foot tapping on the floor. Seeing the man had made him, in all honesty, terrified. This wasn't some lone creature he could scare off with a pointy stick. No. This guy had moved in a way Alec could only associate with those few bullies he'd met who didn't just scare and talk and threatened, but those who actually knew how to fight and who liked to fight. The way he'd walked: a quiet walk of confidence, a certainty in knowing no one can hurt you. And the way his eyes had travelled around: assessing. Like a predator. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if the man had seen through his act. What could have happened. This man was dangerous. More so than the lone creatures Alec had encountered before. Maybe even more so than Raphael, if the difference in fear Alec had felt was any indication.

 

Alec took a long sip from his steaming cup. He willed his foot to still and leaned back and simply focused on breathing for a few minutes. With closed eyes, his heart started to settle. Suddenly his thoughts changed direction and continued on a new path.

 

What had Raphael actually said? He needed his help not for himself but for his friend. That he'd searched for him for a very long time? Had Alec even once actually asked about what? It was clear that Raphael was not only persistent but also desperate. But not once had he hurt Alec without being provoked. Maybe he should have heard him out. And what happened that night, it hadn't been Raphael’s fault in any way. Of course, it hadn't. He had sunk to a very low level and taken out years worth of guilt and frustration on him. Of fear, and anger and exhaustion. Maybe… Maybe if he returned he'd listen. Maybe then.

 

Alec gulped down the last of his coffee.


	5. Never have I ever played 'Never have I ever'

Raphael felt a tickle of nervosity. Alec had asked him to never ever return, in all fairness. But here he was, standing outside his door, his hand held in the air. Something was holding him back and he felt his anger rising. Why couldn’t he simply knock? 

Raphael took an unnecessary breath and lowered his hand. Almost ready to turn and bolt he heard the clinking sound of the dishes being put away from inside the apartment. If he was ever gonna try to talk to Alec, now was the time. Alec had eaten, which lessened the chance of him lashing out at him because of underlying reasons such as hunger. He had also had a somewhat calm day at work, so he shouldn’t be too tired. And he had showered when he came home, which should mean that he ought to be more relaxed than usual. And if Raphael had read Alec’s calendar correctly when he’d been in his apartment during that said shower, Alec had recently passed a big test and therefore didn’t have any big study related stress moments currently to fuel his already constantly high stress-levels. He’d thought of everything. Clary had been forced to stay away from work due to her big finals coming up, and so had Simon. And so Alec hadn’t been forced to work with them and could, therefore, get more studying done during his breaks and have a calmer work-environment. If there was a right moment, it was now. Raphael stomped on the uneasiness squirming in his stomach and knocked. 

He almost didn’t manage to conceal his jump when Alec opened the door. Alec’s face shut down momentarily when he saw Raphael, but he kept the door open, and after a while, his face came back online and he blinked. Then he looked down, took a long breath (Raphael counted the seconds) and then he opened his door. Raphael frowned.

Alec rolled his eyes at that. “We need to talk. It’s easier to do that inside, don’t you think?”

Raphael cleared his throat a little too loudly, changed his footing and then stood silently for a few hellish seconds before getting a “Yes.” out and brushing past Alec inside.

He was in his living room when Alec caught up with him.

“Alright. I’m not angry, ok? I won’t lash out like last time, I swear. That was a bit unprovoked…” Raphael raised his eyebrow meaningly at him.

Alec sighed. “Fine, very unprovoked at the moment. But you had been violating my rights and privacy for months.” Alec raised his eyebrow meaningly. Raphael nodded, after a while, in stoic agreement. They stood silently. Then at the same time, they started talking.

“Do you want some-”

“I brought you some-”

“Wine…” They finished simultaneously.

Raphael held up the bottle he’d brought. If was a fine wine, Lily had given it to him for a special occasion. Alec shrugged, didn’t look closer at the bottle and went into the kitchen. When he came back with two wine glasses, Raphael had taken a seat on the couch and had opened the bottle. When Alec put down the glasses he immediately poured the rich, red fluid into them without his normal extravaganza, knowing that the gesture would be wasted on Alec. With both glasses half filled, Raphael cleared his throat again, when Alec made no sign of wanting to sit down himself.

“Do you by any chance have some candles?”

“Why?” Alec gave him a suspicious look from the doorway where he’d remained.

“Fire-light is easier on my eyes than these electric monstrous- your electric lamps.”

“Yeah, I got some.” Alec went and returned with some candles and matches, before disappearing into the kitchen again with the excuse of “making some snacks”. 

Raphael had just finished lighting all the candles and turning off all bigger lamps, mainly the one on the ceiling, when Alec showed up again with two bowls of sliced vegetables and a minor one with dip. He awkwardly put them down on the table when Raphael straightened. He heard steps approaching Alec’s apartment door, and he heard the familiar voices coming with the set of steps. He settled down onto the couch, crossed his legs and picked up his glass of wine. Letting it rest in his hand he gestured towards the direction of the door with a nod, and Alec moved to the door after squinting suspiciously at him. The rapid knocks came only a second or so after, and he heard Alec pulling away the chain on the door and then opening it. Once the door opened, Raphael could feel the smell so much stronger. He repressed a shiver. Soon excited chatter filled the air, a contrast to the vacuum of noise which would be where Alec stood. He heard the steps approaching and gathered his face into what he hoped would be somewhat impressive and not like his carefully thought-out plan had been completely ruined. (Or at least half ruined.)

Around the corner came first Clary, her head turned back and her happy chatter like screaming tires to Raphael’s ears. When she turned her head in a swoosh of ginger curls she stopped dead in her tracks and her mouth fell shut. Walking straight into her was Simon, firstly confused and when he caught sight of Raphael, possibly even more confused. And lastly came Alec, looking awkward and gently pushing past them.

“I tried to tell you, I’m not…” He turned to look at Raphael and then turned back. “Alone.”

“I see. “ Clary seemed to be at a loss for words. Her eyes going to Raphael, then to the glass in his hand and eventually to all the tastefully placed candles.

“I am so sorry for intruding. We should go.” She grabbed behind her and caught hold of Simon and got ready to turn and drag him out when Raphael’s mouth decided to act without his consent.

“Don’t.” Internally he cursed. He blamed that cute boy she always dragged along, he truly smelled wonderful. He inclined his head towards the couch he was sitting in like a hospitable person would. “Join us. Alec was kind enough to make all this dip, I’m afraid I can in no way finish it alone.” When they both remained unmoving, he smiled. “Please, sit down. I’ll get more glasses.” Disappearing into the kitchen he discreetly caught a whiff of Simon in passing. In the kitchen, he leaned onto the kitchen island and listened to Clary and Simon exchanging a few hushed words before settling down. Raphael brought out a batch of glasses and walked back out, this time not toning down his style. He blamed the boy.

“I really hope this is OK, it looks like you had quite the night planned.”

“Clary, nena, I would never turn down your company, however pleasant Alec can be. However this was more of a spontaneous evening, and nothing that can’t be rescheduled.” His face felt so stiff he was sure his smile must be like a crack in a stone wall.

“Are you sure, you weren’t gonna have some romantic date then?” Simon quipped up. 

Raphael could see Alec tensing up on the couch next to Clary. Taking the attention away from him he laughed.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to seduce Alec,” he paused to gesture at the lit candles, ”however I am old school and do prefer candle-light to electric. You don’t mind keeping it like this?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Not at all. I love candles.”

“Wonderful taste, as always, Clary.” Raphael avoided looking at Clary’s paint-stained trousers the entire night to abstain from exposing his lie by letting some sarcastic comment fly about her not having any pair of clean trousers.

Some time passed of even more awkward silence and stilted small talk, with Alec shutting himself off in his corner of the couch and Simon stuffing his mouth full of carrots and dip. And damn if he didn’t have the cutest little pink tongue that darted out of his mouth to lick away some stray dip from his lower lip, goddamnit. Raphael himself was sipping on his wine when Clary suddenly got her brilliantly awful idea.

“Hey, guys! I know what we can do! We still don’t know each other that well, so why don’t we play ‘Never have I ever’?” Simon choked. Alec groaned quietly. Clary’s eyes glittered in a doll-like way, and Raphael wondered briefly if it was wrong to compare humans with differing cute pets before deciding that no, that was not wrong. 

Considering the idea, Raphael eventually inclined his head. After all, he didn’t mind the drinking, nor the chance to get to know more about Alec (and maybe a certain someone else too). And when he eventually got Alec to himself later, he might be easier to talk to if he was a smidge drunk.

“Why not?” In a flourish of movements that made his heart sting just a little due to whom it reminded him of, he had four glasses placed on the table filled with a small amount of liquor from another bottle saved for a special occasion that he had also managed to conjure up. Before Simon, or more specifically Alec, had a chance to protest he had thrust the glasses into their hands. He gave Clary an encouraging nod.

“Great. I’ll start!” She spun her glass and looked calculatingly at the others. “How about: Never have I ever had a one night stand.” Raphael gave a cold, amused smile. In the armchair next to her, Simon blushed violently and downed his glass after a moment of what Raphael assumed would be him gathering strength. Clary looked to her other side at Alec who looked at his glass and then put it down on the table. Her gaze then travelled to Raphael. He held it for a dramatic moment, then smiled a vulture’s smile and downed his own glass. He looked over at Simon’s hunched figure, and when he caught his eyes he gave him a wink. Simon’s blush grew even more furious and he averted his eyes.

“That was fun. Never have I ever… Been responsible for someone ending up in the hospital?” He smiled easily to take the edge of the question. Clary seemed intrigued and looked over at Simon, hiding a smile as he squirmed and waved towards the bottle. Generously Raphael refilled his glass, and then his own. Simon downed it with a face but smiled when Clary giggled.

“She broke her arm when I had just gotten my license. I had to drive her all the way to the hospital, and it was like, miles. We were at my family’s cabin out in the countryside, you know? I was terrified. But… I did manage to get her to the hospital.”

“He was so anxious I felt sorry for him, and I was the one with the broken arm.”

While Clary and Simon were sharing nostalgic memories, Alec snatched his glass and emptied it. Raphael refilled it without a word. There was an expectant silence for a while, but when Alec refrained from giving out his own anecdote Simon rushed out a sentence so quickly it took some time, even for Raphael, to decipher what he had actually said. To be sure he asked him to repeat it.

“Uhh… sure. I said Never have I ever been with someone of the same sex?” He threw a nervous glance at Raphael.

Alec pointedly avoided looking at anyone, Clary looked around way too enthusiastically and Simon threw glances his way every now and then. Having let the silence stew for long enough, Raphael once again managed to flash a suggestive smile Simon’s way for the satisfaction of his red cheeks and ears, before slowly letting the liquid of his glass sipper into his mouth. He could smell the sweat breaking out on Simon, and hear the hitch of Clary’s breath as she watched disbelievingly. And the way too studied non-response from Alec.

Taking a breath and letting out a shaky giggle, Clary took the next turn. “Never have I ever been in a fistfight?”

Simon gave her smug face a surprised look before he reached for the bottle and refilled Raphael’s glass, which he quickly emptied with Alec on his opposite side doing the same. Simon refilled their glasses.

“Here comes a lame one: Never have I ever been outside of Europe.”

“That’s a dumb question.”

“It’s not that bad!”

“I’m from Mexico. Dios mío, hombre.” Raphael emptied his drink, and Clary did the same. When asked, she shrugged but when lightly prodded told a cute little story about her and her mother’s vacation to Turkey, the ‘outside of the EU’ parts.

Raphael took it upon himself to take the next one. “Never have I ever…”, he took a dramatic pause, “been in love.”

Clary smiled and took her own glass. Simon sat stiffly for a while before reaching out too fast, almost knocking his glass over, and downing it, looking uncomfortable the entire time. He immediately got Clary’s eyes on him.

“Simon!” Her tone was high and accusing. 

“...What?” His was low and hushed.

“You never told me you’ve been in love.”

He shrugged but kept his eyes away from hers. “It’s not important.”

“Of course it is! I’ve told you all about my awful crash-and-burn first love with prince-charming-turned-arsehole. You should have told me!”

“It’s not like it’s something that happened. It was a childhood crush, and then it kinda grew. It doesn’t matter now anyway.”

“Simon!” Out of the corner of his eyes, Raphael could see Alec squirming.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But Sim-”

“Maybe.”, Raphael said, interrupting Clary from further pushing Simon and making him further uncomfortable, “We should leave that for now. Love is a difficult matter, let’s not force any conversation on that point.” Clary looked ready to object but he let some Encanto slip into his words as he said: “Right, Clary?” 

She nodded.

 

____

 

After that, the game turned into a competition of sort between Clary and Simon. She asked questions he seemed uncomfortable answering and he paid back by asking questions he knew she’d be forced to drink to. The night spiralled and if nothing else, Clary’s curled up figure on the couch and Simon’s sprawled on the floor was a testament to that. Alec hadn’t really understood what happened between them, but they seemed to have had some kind of a non-verbal fight. He didn’t mind them letting out their feelings over alcohol, but he did mind them doing so in his apartment, with him forced to witness and Raphael watching with a cold, amused smile like he was watching some kind of entertainment show.

He stood by the window, looking out at the city. The houses all around with their windows lit up like a thousand square stars was the closest he could get to actually watching the star-filled sky above that he remembered from his childhood. Now it was only a red, brownish background, clouds lit up by the lights below. 

The surface of the glass was cold to his touch when he leaned his forehead on it. Absentmindedly he wondered how long that would last. Summer was right around the corner, the air already hot and the sun sharp. His eyes stung and his throat felt dry as he swallowed. 

A shadow fell on the glass, obstructing the dancing reflections of the candle-flames. The looming silence could only belong to one person. Especially since he could still hear Simon’s tiny snores and Clary’s incoherent mumbles as they slept.

He turned his head slightly to the side to be able to look at Raphael, even as he kept his forehead to the glass. Raphael was leaning against the wall next to the window, his wine-glass still in hand, as it had been the entire night, even during the game. He wasn't looking at him, his dark eyes instead held on the red liquid in his hand. 

“You're not drunk.” 

“I can't get drunk.” He tilted his head as if he was considering something. “On alcohol.” 

“Then why?” 

“Why do you drink?” 

“To forget. To take the edge off, to not be anxious all the time.” He took a shaky breath and then shrugged. “Or because society demands it.” 

Raphael gave him a look. Someone who hadn't been forced to see his face for months now wouldn't have been able to decipher it. But to Alec, it conveyed distaste and disbelief. “You don't like it?” he asked, but his tone made it a statement, rather than a question.

“No.” 

“Gran Señor altísimo. Why would you drink if the taste displeases you?” 

Alec lightly banged his head against the window, maybe to convey his frustration, maybe because he was drunk. “I already said, to-” 

“Yes yes, I heard you the first time. The side effects that become the human body. But hombre, what a waste.” 

Alec hummed noncommittally. He turned back and let his eyes close. He listened. He could hear Clary and Simon, he could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen and the weak buzzing from his freezer. He could hear Raphael breathing. Once he’d noticed he couldn’t stop listening to the even breaths in and out.

“You're breathing.”

Alec could hear him taking a sip of his wine, before answering; “Yes?”

“You don't need to.” 

“Verdad.” There was a soft stroke of silence, a search for words. “It's more comfortable. Old habit.” 

“Huh.” The confession surprised Alec, but he was tired, and the window was cool, so he limited his response to a one-syllable noise and a shrug. 

They let the silence take over for a long while. Alec felt his body grow heavier. 

“You have never been in love.” It was Raphael who broke the silence this time.

“Neither have you.” 

The was a rustle of fabric, like a shrug in a fancy suit or arms crossing. 

“I'm old, I've seen all possible forms of love. Lust, infatuation, the childish crush. Romantic love. “

Alec waited a few seconds for the continuation but when nothing came he blurted out an impatient: “So?” 

“I've slept with people. Amazing and beautiful people. I’ve cared for people. But I never loved them like I could have. Never romanticly.” Alec must be wrong, but Raphael seemed almost sad when he talked. Alec thought over his words longer then maybe he would have, had they belonged to someone else.

“I think I could have had that. But… I-” He took a deep breath and forced that voice in his head telling him to shut the hell up to instead quiet down, and let him speak. “I never took the chance.” 

Raphael rolled over, leaning his side against the wall. He caught Alec’s eyes with his own, so dark the outline of the city reflected in them. “The boy with the journal?” 

Alec squirmed under those eyes, trying to not take notice of how that voice in his head was screaming in fear for him to run away, to shut up, to do anything but answer that question with the truth. “...yeah.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

Alec nodded. He believed him. He let his eyes close again, he was so tired. But when he heard the unmistakable ruffle of clothes giving away nervous fidgeting, he forced them open to see Raphael struggling for words. Eventually, he seemed to find them.

“My mother was beautiful, worthy of the title Saint. She loved me, my brothers and sister endlessly. She would have protected me, even after I died. Even after I went against her belief, that integral part of her. Even after I could no longer enter the church, or hold the cross, or even pray. It went against all that she believed, but she would have protected me still.“

“What happened?” 

Raphael put down his glass on the windowsill. He stayed still for a while, his hand then reaching unconsciously towards his neck, and pulling out a tiny golden cross. He held it carefully between his thumb and index finger, seemingly unaware of the faint smoke rising from where he touched it. “I left her. I couldn't stay, I didn’t knew what I was or how to control it. And I was not strong enough to end my sinful form.” He stilled. “I met someone. And they showed me the way, guided me until I could walk on my own again. My love for him, for what he did for me, and the love for my mother is the strongest love I've ever felt. I would do anything for them.” 

Alec thought. He thought of his numerous foster families, of Molly, of any friends he’d ever had. It stung, but he knew the truth. “I've never had that.” 

Raphael turned to him so fast it startled him, his eyes intense and the look on his face more honest than ever. “You’ll meet someone. And when you love water like blood, you’ll know.”

He gave a weak nod to that, watching Raphael step back, slipping the cross beneath his collar again, and picking up his glass of wine like he hadn’t just almost scared Alec half to death. He could feel himself blushing awkwardly, not knowing what to do with Raphael’s words. Fumbling after something, anything, he thought of the most obvious. “I never actually asked what you want my help with.”

Raphael sipped his wine. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well?”

He let out a sigh. “I was told that something horrible would occur. And it did. And I was told of a person who could make it all alright again.”

“And you think that person is me?” Disbelief washed over him like a wave.

“No, I think it’s the ginger on your couch.”

Alec disregarded his sarcastic comment completely, his focus solely on the unbelievable words falling from the vampire's mouth. “Why me?”

“I searched for you for years. Back when you were a toddler, I was searching for you. I wouldn’t be here, two decades later, unless i had strong reasons to believe you are the one.”

He could still feel the heat of his face, making his cheeks burn. “And if I’m not?”

“Then I annoyed some unimportant mundane for some months.” He waved his hand dismissively in Alec's direction.

“Raphael, I can’t do whatever it is you think I can do. I’m not special.” 

Raphael turned to him again, if only briefly. “Maybe. But if I didn’t ask you to try, how could I ever forgive myself?”

“That’s all you want?”

“Yes.” He stared down into the red of his glass. And he looked so sad.

“I’ll so regret this tomorrow. But yeah, I’ll try.”

Raphael caught his eyes. “Thank you.”

 

-o-

 

“Alexander Doe?”

“Yes?”

“We have a package for you.”


	6. I’d like to get my money back, my mirror is haunted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS!!! It's the one-year anniversary of this fic!!! It's hard to believe! We have never written anything so long or kept writing for so long! Thank you so much for all your support! We'll keep going, and will hopefully be done by our next anniversary! Thank you so much!

Alec stepped past his threshold and locked the door behind him. He took a minute to lean against it and breathe. Some days the crowd of people, the constant noises, movements, smells, it got too much. He just wanted to be left alone, to go home to his apartment, his safe zone. His quiet living room, his cool kitchen, his dark bedroom.

Alec opened his eyes. 

Two blue eyes looked back at him.

He let out an irritated sigh and turned away, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket, dropped his keys on his dresser and walked over to his kitchen and dumped his bag on the kitchen island.

As soon as he’d put on the coffeemaker, he put a hand on his neck and carefully moved his head from side to side to feel the extent of his stiff and hurting neck. Comforted by the sound of the loud coffeemaker, he walked back into his hallway to meet those blue eyes.

He stood in front of the huge golden mirror and felt small. When the movers had shown up with the mirror they’d barely gotten it through the door. Normally Alec didn’t mind getting huge golden gifts, but in this case, he couldn’t exactly sell it for the money, so now he was stuck meeting his own tired gaze every time he walked through his apartment door. And yes, he did mind. 

He’d called Raphael, of course. And he had admitted to being the one who’d sent the mirror his way, but refused to say much more, referring to the prophecy spoken by the mysterious warlock, and that Alec would figure it all out if he ‘was the one’. 

So no, Alec wasn’t thrilled with this addition to his apartment, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to try solving this puzzle.

After casting one last look at his sad appearance before him, his eyes drifted to the top of the mirror, almost touching the roof. Four letters were engraved there.

B A N E

Somehow it felt like it must be the clue, he thought. Bane. 

A quick check online gave him the definitions: “A cause of great distress or annoyance”, and “Something, especially poison, which causes death.” Knowing that the word had Germanic origin didn’t exactly help much either.

He put away his phone and pulled over a chair to stand on, in front of the mirror. He carefully put his fingertips to the engraved words and let them carefully follow the pattern of the letters, hoping for some sort of crack that would reveal a secret compartment like in a children’s detective story. When that gave nothing, he continued to carefully feel all over the richly sculptured top half of the frame. 

He stepped down after having felt over it twice. After having retrieved his cup of coffee and emptied it to about half, he shoved away the chair and kneeled in front of the mirror to feel over the bottom half. 

After once again turning out emptied-handed, he stood. He drank the last of his coffee, put back the chair, and stood again watching himself. The only thing he’d come to learn was that the mirror must be very old. And very well cared for, there wasn’t a single particle of dust on it, and no scratches except the small crack right in its’ middle. It was about two inches long, in a single, almost straight line. Considering how well kept the mirror was, he couldn’t help but wonder how the crack had ended up there. 

With one final glance at the words on top and one quick glance at himself, he left to go make himself dinner. But as he turned away, something shiny caught his eye. Something, in the corner of his eye, made him turn back. He looked at the reflections to try and see it again. He turned around and did a full spin to check behind him and to his side. He even imitated his previous movement to catch it again, but nothing came up. Slightly frustrated he walked away.

 

___

 

The window had changed again. He could feel the mist pulling him, pulling him back into that state of drowsy indifference, but some spark of curiosity deep within gave him the strength to pull himself away and to crawl over to the looking glass. He witnessed these new surroundings with more energy than he’d really used for anything for… a long time he supposed. 

It wasn’t a very nice place from what he could see. It made him miss the old room, with its’ rich decorations and expensive furniture. Its’ darkness and class. But, this was new, and that made it exciting. The floor was a simple wooden one. The walls empty and white. He looked out into a hallway. A simple door led out. There were hooks on the walls, bearing a leather jacket and another thicker black one. He could see a scarf, gloves and a hat on a shelf. On a dresser laid keys and what looked like a forgotten water bottle. He could see black boots, actually, he could only see black clothing. Who was this person?

He tried to crane his neck to get a glimpse of something else, something more, but he could only see the hallway, half of a door leading away and something beginning at the other side of the wall, maybe a bookshelf or a cabinet?

Disappointed he leaned back again. He was just starting to feel the pull of the mist making his eyes droopy when a person appeared. A quick glimpse was all he had time for before the person had walked over to the closed door and walked into… a bathroom apparently. 

It had been a man, unmistakably. Dressed in black, unsurprisingly after what he’d already seen of his wardrobe. He’d looked tall. His hair had been black, his skin light. The short glimpse had been enough to intrigue him, enough for him to realise that this man was beautiful. He sat there thinking, trying to remember him. Maybe it was a long time, maybe it was short, but the man appeared again, wearing a pair of sweats and a loose T-shirt. His hair was ruffled and there were bags under his eyes. The bluest eyes he had ever seen. For a moment it was if he looked straight into his eyes, and he could feel his heart beat faster, his breath catching in his throat. Almost like his heart skipped a beat. But then the man looked disdainfully at him and walked away. He wondered, slightly offended, what he’d ever done to him. And then a memory slowly sprung to the surface of his mind: they couldn’t see him. Then why would he look like that? The answer evaded him, he suspected he’d already thought of this before, and maybe even found the answer. But now the question remained an itch in the back of his mind. Currently too worked up to feel the pull of the mist he remained sitting by the window waiting for the next glimpse. When the lights went out he assumed his mysterious stranger had gone to sleep. But he stayed waiting. What did time matter anyway?

 

____

 

“Yeah?”

The line made a jarring sound before a familiar, high-pitched voice came through. “Hiiiiii, uhh… It’s me. Simon. Lewis.”

“I know who you are Simon.” Alec could feel a headache building up behind his temples.

“Of course, yeah, definitely.” 

“Why do you have my number?” Alec closed his books and went to make himself some coffee. He was gonna need it.

“Why wouldn’t I have it? We’re friends now right? Friends have each other's numbers.” There was a nervous tinge to his voice, making it unsteady. He probably wore a wide smile this exact moment, equally as fake as his happy and relaxed voice. 

Alec impatiently drummed his fingers against the counter as he waited for his coffee. “Simon, we’re not friends. How did you get my number?”

There was a short silence, and some disturbance on the line. Maybe he’d shrugged, shuffled around a little. Maybe he’d moved the phone from one ear to the other. “I bribed a baker, you know the one with the-”

“No need, I think I know.” He made a mental note to have a conversation with the baker in question, who apparently found joy in leaking information about his private life.

“I didn’t mean to go behind your back, but I kinda suspected you, you know, wouldn't give me your number if I asked because you wouldn't want me to call you and.... Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t have my number.”

“I got that.” At least he had the courtesy to sound a little bit ashamed.

Alec opened his cupboard to pull out a mug. He chose the bright red one. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing. Just checking in. You know. Like non-friends do.”

“Simon.”

“Yeah. Ok. No, I didn’t like that. Like a non-friend. Or I guess I did? I mean technically I am calling you right now and I am your non-friend and-”

“Simon.”

“Right. Ok. It’s about Clary.”

Alec had to close his eyes, and really force himself not to say any of the many rude things on his mind. “Of course it is.”

“She’s been kinda off lately. These few weeks or so. Have you heard anything? Noticed something?”

“She’s been taking fewer shifts, but that’s about it. When her school ends I’m sure she’ll go up to full time, like last year. Maybe she’s only taking some time off before that.”

“Well I kinda thought so too, but she doesn’t spend that free time with me. Or her other friends, because they called me. Said I couldn’t steal all her free time like that, but then I was like: I don’t because she’s been spending less time with me than she usually does, even though she’s free more often. And she’s not with them so...”

“Maybe she’s met someone.”

“What? Who? A new friend?” He sounded quite genuinely confused. Alec let out a sigh.

“Right, a friend.”

“Oh! You mean like a boy… friend. Oh.” 

Alec gave him a minute or so to let it sink in while he poured his coffee. “Can’t you just ask her?”

“... I don’t know. She tells me everything. And if she is holding something back now it would be so weird if I pointed it out. Like I don’t trust her.”

Alec shrugged to himself and held his warm cup to his chest hoping it would spread some heat to his cool limbs. “Or she doesn’t trust you.”

“She does, it’s not that.” He could almost see Simon dismissing him animatedly. 

“Then ask her.”

“But-”

He put down the cup harder than he'd intended, it was too hot to drink. “Simon, I’m not your advisor. I don’t know anything. She’s your best friend. Ask her.”

“Yeah. I guess I should.”

“Simon?” He put his free hand to his temple, trying to soothe the headache still building.

“Yeah?”

“Hang up. And don’t call again.”

“Oh. Yeah of course. Yup. Hanging up now. See ya.”

Alec let out a big sigh. He was too tired for this. He stopped his pacing in front of the mirror. As usual, his eyes drifted to the word on top. Bane. He couldn’t let it go, it kept itching at him. He never laid puzzles, even though he was quite good at it, for the simple reason that he could never let them go. He’d go on and on until they were done. He’d get angry and irritable, lose sleep, partly lose himself in the puzzle. And he could feel that itch to fix it growing like a hunger in the base of his gut. 

He looked into his blue eyes. Looked at his hair. His old black T-shirt. The stain on the left leg of his trousers. The corner of his mouth. His gaze travelled back to his eyes. His yellow eyes.

He did a double take, but his eyes were as blue as ever. He shivered in discomfort, running his hands over his arms, dotted with goosebumps. Uneasy he gave his reflection one more wary look. His eyes remained blue.

He went to get his coffee.

 

-o-

 

Alec was sitting on a chair in front of the mirror, his arms crossed and his eyes focused on the reflection of him and the hallway behind him. He was wearing his sweats like he always did on Sundays. It was noon, and usually at this time he’d be busy studying, but he found he couldn't concentrate. After several times having seen things that weren’t there he had now decided to remain in front of the mirror until it happened again and he could stop feeling insane. It hadn’t happened once outside of his apartment, and when he thought about it he could only remember the illusions appearing in the mirror. It was the smallest things. Seeing glitter on his cheek when he’d been nowhere near anything glittery, and then discovering that it was nothing there. Seeing his hair with purple streaks when he came out of the bathroom once had almost given him a heart attack. And like that, it had kept going. Suddenly his nails gleamed red. Then he saw blue mist following him as he moved. Once he saw fire and almost broke the chair he’d permanently moved there in his haste to turn around and extinguish it. 

So now he sat there. Waiting for the proof that he was indeed sane. That it wasn’t all in his head, that he wasn’t hitting the wall. He was wasting precious minutes, hours on this quest for sanity instead of working on his essay like he should. Like he planned to. He hated puzzles.

After another hour, he gave up. The anxiety of not doing schoolwork won over his itching need to find out the truth, and he rose from the chair to leave -and then there it was. He froze, his eyes locked onto his reflection. There, on his middle finger, sat a big, oval, silver ring. He’d never seen it before in his life. But there it sat, like the most natural thing in the world. He fought against the urge to blink but then his eyes started to tear up he gave in and blinked. And it was gone. The ring who’d appeared out of nowhere had disappeared the same way. 

When Alec later went to bed that night, he did so with a smug little smile on his lips. He’d found his proof. He was going to lay this puzzle no matter what, he was too invested now to go back. And he found that he actually didn’t mind.

 

-o-

 

happy 22nd birthday alexander 

He smiled to himself when he watched the letters in the mist on the surface of the mirror. One more year, and guess what? He was fine. He hadn’t fucked up his life yet. He hadn’t failed like they’d said he would. He was doing well, everything he had he’d made for himself. He, alone.

But then the smile faded from his lips, realising he had no one to tell. He couldn’t tell those who’d mocked him, he’d left them behind a long time ago. And he had no one else to tell either, his past was a well-guarded secret. Not even Molly, who knew more than anyone else, could he tell. His past had turned into such a well-guarded secret he himself couldn’t even set it free.

He started turning away when he saw the mist moving. Not disappearing as it should, but moving downwards, right underneath where he’d just written himself.

Slowly lines appeared in the mist ghosting over the smooth surface. As if some invisible hand was writing back to him. 

Happy Birthday.

It took some time for him to realise that the scribbled marks were indeed letters, turned backwards. Once he’d decoded the message, his eyes moved swiftly around him, looking for some kind of an explanation. Not finding any, he turned back to the mirror. 

thanks, he carefully wrote back, after having exhaled close to the mirror’s surface, causing it to fog.

You’re welcome. Once again the backwards writing turned up, one letter at a time.

is this real? Alec’s fingers were trembling as he once more wrote a message across the mirror.

I am not sure.

Alec stared at the sentence until it faded with the mist. He stared at the point where it had been for another couple minutes before he could force himself to move. 

The image of the letters ghosting over the surface of that strange mirror stayed with him the rest of the night, and even in his sleep, he dreamt of nothing else.

 

-o-

 

Alec was jogging up the stairs to get to his floor. His legs were almost hurting, due to the strain, but he kept going, filled to the brim with energy. Once he got to his door, he put a hand on it to steady himself, gave him a second to breathe. He could feel the sweat on his forehead starting to gather into drops, running down along the brim of his nose. His legs were shaking, his pulse so loud it drowned out any other noise. And a smile played on his lips. 

He unlocked his door and walked in. Not even his reflection smiling back at him could bring him down. For once his hated appearance didn’t matter. Not now. He was floating on a cloud and he wasn’t gonna let something like that ruin it. 

He got off his shoes and went straight to the water bottle on his dresser, letting the cool water soothe his burning throat. He put it down and turned to the mirror. With a chuckle, he looked appreciatingly at the huge sweat stains under his arms and torso. It was getting hot outside, summer had come. Schools would end this week, and the streets would fill will people bubbling with joy and noise, bare-legged and wearing sunglasses. And not even that could bring him down, even though he didn’t like summer much. 

He let a hand go through his wet hair, he could feel it stiffen. He gave his sweaty and smiling face one last look. Winked, and walked away. 

Not until he was in the shower enjoying the sensation of washing of his sweat and becoming gloriously clean did he realise that he never winked. The realisation finally wiped the smile off his face and got back the frown he was so accustomed to. 

The water kept pouring down on his head, but he barely noticed it dripping off his eyelashes or how it slowly got colder and colder. Instead his mind kept going over what had happened. Was it another mirage of the mirror’s? But never before had his reflection moved without him. Knowing how the mirror had a tendency to change and morph reality he didn’t know why this bothered him so much. First when the water had cooled did he manage to shake it off and get out of the shower. 

But it happened again. And again. Not just the mirages, the slight changes he knew had nothing to with him, but sometimes his reflection moved on its' own. Waved, winked, smiled. When he looked into the mirror he never knew if what he saw was real or not. Had he actually scratched his arm, or did the mirror do that? It scared him, not knowing if it was real. It was like he lost control over his own body. The fear stayed with him, in every blank surface it reminded him, chilled him, scared him. He got twitchy and jumpy, insecure in a way he hadn't been since he was a child. When Molly noticed and started threatening to put him on sick leave he drew the line. He wanted to help Raphael. And he most certainly did not want things to go back to the way they were, having his privacy invaded constantly, but the mirror was driving him insane and he couldn't have that. When he came home that day he took a sheet and hung it over the mirror, until Raphael could send someone to take it back. 

“You need to take back the mirror.”

“Hello to you to Alec.” His voice was as cool and condescending as ever, even over the phone.

“I don’t know why you gave it to me, if you want me to go insane, because that’s what’s happening.” His voice wavered, and he hated himself for it.

“Insane?” It was hard to tell, but he actually sounded surprised. 

“Yes! The moving reflections, the mirages, everything.”

“I see. I’m afraid I won’t be able to take it back right now.”

“What are you talking about?” He had to grip the edge of his kitchen counter so hard his knuckles turned white, to stop himself from screaming straight out in frustration. 

“As it so happens," Raphael continued oblivious, "the annual meeting between the London vampire clan and the Birmingham clan is due this week.”

“So? As I got it you’re not the leader of the London vampire clan?”

“No, but I am the right hand of the leader of the London vampire clan. And as our leader is busy-” The nonchalance of his tone made something hot and ugly turn in Alec's stomach. 

“Come on Raphael!”

“Alec. She is my boss. A several hundred years old vampire, who loves power and money and leisure time. I do not go against my boss, and if she wants me to handle political meetings for the future of her clan so she can play, then I do it. You do not cross Camille Belcourt.”

“As soon as you come back.”

“Yes."

His throat felt unbearably tight. “Don’t fool me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The call ended. 

 

-o-

 

The knock on the door was unexpected. Alec could feel himself freeze at the loud sound. 

Knock, knock, knock-knock knock

He looked down at the vegetables he was frying. Then turned his head in the direction of the hallway. He hesitated for a moment more, before he let go of the pan and walked towards the door where now a third round of knocks went off in rapid progression.

When he rather roughly opened the door Simon almost fell straight into his arms. He was dishevelled, his curly hair going in all directions like he'd dragged his hand through it a million times, his eyes had a frantic expression, shiny and slightly red behind his dirty glasses. His clothes were so rumpled he might actually have slept in them. All in all he made such a pity full impression Alec had let him in before he even had time to think why he actually didn't want to have Simon in his apartment. Curious, babbling, annoying Simon. He mentally scolded himself. 

Simon, of course, was completely oblivious. He struggled a while to get off his shoes and then went straight inside, missing the huge covered mirror, thank god. 

“Do I really have to ask?” 

He turned abruptly. There was a skittish nervous tinge to his restless fidgeting. “Ask what?” 

“What you're doing here. ” 

“Oh that. No, not really.” 

“Simon.” 

He avoided looking Alec in his eyes. “Mmhum?” 

“Dude. What are you doing here?” 

“Um. I had a question. And you said not to call because we're not friends. And I needed a walk anyway so I thought why not ask in person you know?“

Alec looked at him in disbelief. Then he shook his head tiredly and went back to his dinner-in-making. He could hear Simon following him. Then he could hear him sitting down. And then he could hear his fingers drumming on the counter. 

He stopped stirring. 

“Simon. We're not friends. That means you do not call me. You do not come to my house to ask me questions in person. Can you see why?” 

“Because it's weird and a little creepy?” 

“Yes, Simon.” He continued stirring.

“You haven't heard anything about Clary now though have you?” 

“Clary?” 

“Yeah.” His voice sounded so small. 

He let out a sigh. “No. I'm not her friend either, so we don't really chat. She hasn't been to work this week, however.” 

“That must mean something right?” 

The hopeful tone of his voice made Alec wish he had something strong to wash away the sudden foul taste in his mouth. “It's only Wednesday.” 

“I need something!” 

Alec turned to face him. “Maybe she's decided not to work this summer. She could have simply quit.” 

“Wouldn't you know that?” His glasses were askew, and a part of Alec screamed to reach over to set them right. And maybe to polish them. And straighten his clothes. And- he had to mentally stop himself.

“I don't care enough to keep check, to be honest.” 

“Why would she stop talking to me?” Simons' hand lay abandoned in his lap, a sign if anything of his despair. 

"She's ignoring you?" This did surprise Alec, Clary and Simon were as thick as thieves. The mere thought of Clary ignoring Simon sounded silly.

"No. No, not really. It's more like she's avoiding my presence and trying to act all natural about it. What did I do?"

"It is possible you didn't do anything. It might be all about her."

"But… "

Alec turned off the heat and poured his food onto a plate. 

He sat down next to Simon when he had nothing else to excuse himself with. “Why did you come here?” 

“You work with her. Sometimes you see her more in a week than I do.” He looked at Alec with his big brown eyes, not a sign of dishonesty in his body, his appearance, however distraught, relaxed. 

“I barely even know her. I don't know you. I can't help you.” He felt obligated to break the eye contact. 

“Yeah…” Simon seemed to think of that for a while. But then it was like someone had turned on a button and his back suddenly straightened and he turned to eye Alec's plate curiously. 

“Are you gonna eat all of that?” 

He looked at him blankly. “That's why it's on my plate.” 

“Can I have some?” Apparently, he was immune to hints, and gladly leaned forward to smell his food. 

“No.” 

At this, he didn't seem either too surprised or dejected. But he did keep on fidgeting with his sleeves. 

“Haven't you eaten?” Alec asked after a while of watching Simon's tireless work of slowly ruining his clothes. 

“I told mum I was gonna eat out with Clary.” 

Alec moved a little to better free his arm. He pointed to the fridge. “I have leftovers from Monday in the fridge. You can have that. Second shelf from the top.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

They sat in silence for a while. Or rather Alec sat in silence while Simon held a steady stream of talk going, however slower and more quietly than usual, so it was basically silence for him. Alec finished his food and started washing up. When Simon finished shortly after he handed over his dirty dishes and picked up a towel, to dry everything Alec handed him, still warm and dripping with water. Simon started whistling, and since he did so surprisingly well Alec let him. 

As the evening progressed Alec pulled out his computer and notes to study. Simon assured him he would stay quiet “as a mouse” and took off to Alec's living room. He also assured Alec he couldn't leave yet, as his mum being the nosy bloodhound of drama that she was, would realise something was wrong. And then she'd tell Jocelyn (Clary's mum apparently) who would tell Clary. 

And so Alec buried himself in his course on further psychological elements in teamwork and conflict management. (It looked good on a resume.) 

Suddenly he got distracted by the sound of fabric being pulled off an object, a thud and a sharp inhale. 

“Wow” 

“What did you do?” He was up and running towards the sound before he'd even finished the sentence.

“Why would you ever cover this up?” 

Alec found Simon standing in the hallway, gesturing towards the mirror, with the sheet laying by his feet. Alec took a steadying breath. “I'm sending it back.” 

“But it's so cool! It must be really old!” He turned his round, amazed eyes from Alec to the mirror.

“Yes, now let's move on. It's going back to its owner.” Alec took a few steps closer to try and usher him away but got little reaction.

“Wait, who does it belong to?” he asked, his eyes still glued to the smooth surface only two hands from his face. 

“Raphael. Now put back the sheet.” 

“Raphael?” Simon gave him the shortest of glanced before turning back.

Alec could feel his mood and patience souring. “Yes, I just said-” 

“He gave you this?"

"Yes, now put it back."

"A like, hundreds of years old mirror in gold. As a gift?"

"It's probably not gold. And he more let me borrow it. Now please-" Alec had gone to stand as close to Simon as he could without stepping into the mirror's line of sight, hopeful that his presence might evoke some kind of fear within Simon, to get him to listen.

"Borrow? How rich must one be to lend out golden mirrors like that?"

"It's not gold. I told you."

"Shit. And you're giving it back because of the crack?" He pointed to the crack in the middle.

"No. Because I don't want it."

"But it's so cool! Even with the crack. Why wouldn't you want it?" This time Simon actually turned to look at Alec and seemed momentarily surprised that Alec was closer now than before. 

"It doesn't exactly fit in."

"So?"

"I'm sending it back, so please put back the sheet, it mustn't get any further damage." He gestured towards the sheet, and it looked like Simon might actually bend to get it when he froze suddenly. 

"Wait did you see that?"

"No." 

"Right there, I swear my eyes turned yellow!" 

Alec tried hard to keep his voice even as he responded with: "That's impossible." 

"Now it happened again!" 

"Maybe the food was too old. It must have gotten to your head or something." Alec reached down himself to grab the sheet, knowing that if he turned he would be able to see his own reflection. 

"There was nothing wrong with the food. Actually maybe a bit more salt."

"Simon."

"Wait! It moved! My reflection moved!" 

"Stop. You're being ridiculous." He put a hand on Simon's shoulder to steer him away. 

"Nono, just wait it’ll happen again!"

"Simon! Come-" Alec let go of Simon, thinking of a better strategy. "…. Actually, I think I do remember something about Clary."

"No just wait- Clary?" Simon turned to him with his big brown eyes. 

"Yeah… yeah, I do remember one thing."

"What?!" 

Alec dropped the sheet, and carefully led Simon to his living room as he hummed as if he was thinking it over. He pushed Simon down on the couch and sat down in the armchair opposite him. 

"What?"

"Do you remember that night when you came to the Roundhouse? When we were walking home?"

"Uh… faintly?" Simon shrugged. Alec continued. 

"That guy Clary described? That we couldn’t see?"

A light went on above his head. "Yeah! She went on about some imaginary dude."

"Well, a guy like that showed up at the bakery. I think he was looking for her."

"You sure it was the same one?"

Alec shrugged like he wasn't already one hundred percent certain. "No, of course not. I never saw him the first time around. But she said tatts right? And that, he had all over. Blonde, buff, with attitude." He carefully avoided thinking about their almost-confrontation that one day. 

"Was he… you know? Pretty?" 

Alec shifted uncomfortably. "Your classical pretty-boy, leather wearing badass." 

"Oh." Simon sank down into the couch and pulled off his glasses to put a hand over his face. Convinced Simon was far away dwelling on his thoughts Alec returned with new energy to study.

When Simon finally decided he could safely return home, Alec accompanied him to the hallway, barely in time to stop Simon from ripping of the sheet of the mirror again. After that, he curtly made his goodbye and shoved him out his door, his shoes not even tied and his jacket hanging off one shoulder. He closed the door before Simon had time to say anything and locked it. 

 

-o-

 

Alec heard a thud when he had just pushed his key into the lock of his door, ready to turn and let himself in. He quickly looked down to see if he’d dropped anything, if something had escaped his grocery bags, but he saw only the slightly dirty floor and his own boots. Carefully he opened his door and put down the bags, before he ventured back out to see where the noise had come from. 

In the staircase he saw his upstairs neighbour, struggling to pick up all her spilt goods, as it appeared her bags had broken. Alec quickly rushed down a few steps to stop an escaping orange. He came back up to see her clutching her back, having taken a short break. As she seemed to catch her breath, he gently reached out to touch her shoulder. She seemed a little startled to see him but gave a relieved smile.

“Alec, darling. What a mess you caught me in.”

“Are you alright, Mrs Jackson?”

“Quite.”

“If you’ll wait here I’ll get you a new bag.” She gave him a weak nod, and he hurried back to his apartment, emptied his bags on the counter and went rushing back, to find her once more trying to bend down to get her goods.

“Mrs Jackson. Please. Let me, you’ll exhaust yourself.” She gave half a wave to show she was quite fine, but quickly let her hand fall and let him gather up her goods much faster than she ever could have. 

“There. That’s all? Or did something else roll down the stairs?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Will you wait if I run down to check?”

“There’s really no need, young man.”

“And I really don’t mind, my lady.” She gave him a light wack on his arm but watched fondly as he disappeared down, and stood in the same position when he came back up, puffing a little.

“Nothing.” 

She smiled knowingly and went to grab her bags. 

“Uhh, let me.” When she gave him a warning look, he smiled back. “We did just establish that I’m a young healthy man who enjoys running in stairs, so you’ll only be doing me a favour.” That seemed to melt her and she grabbed hold of the railings as she struggled up the stairs herself. When finally at her door, she muttered a little to herself.

“They really ought to fix that elevator soon. I can’t expect to have your help every time.”

“I will help if I can.”

“Oh, I know, honey. And I’m happy you could help me just now, my daughter’s birthday is next week. She’s had such a hard life, you know? And now everything seems to be coming together and I wanted to make it a little special. Her son and new husband and baby daughter are coming.”

“I’m sure I’ll be perfect.”

“Well, I’ll bloody well try hard to make it!”

She opened her door after having searched for her keys a while.

“Thank you, Alec.”

“It’s really no problem. Say hi to Sally and her family from me.”

“Certainly. Take care.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He made a mock salute for her and got to see the tip of her tongue in return. He stayed until her door was firmly closed before sauntering back down to his floor. 

He could suddenly remember the melody Simon had been whistling the other day and blew a few tones himself. It stuck easily, and when he was back inside putting away his groceries he kept whistling. He stopped to gulp down a glass of water but kept tapping his feet to the melody still ringing. He started back up, only to stop, when he realised he was doubling another’s whistle. He turned abruptly expecting to see Raphael, but there was none.

He quickly went through his apartment room by room, but the whistling continued eerily without any obvious source. He checked his computer, his phone. He checked outside his door, but nothing. He turned around to look at the covered mirror. With his stomach squirming he walked over, noticing the whistling getting louder and louder. He fisted his hands in the sheet but couldn’t quite make himself pull it. But when the melody started over for the second time since he stood there, he made up his mind and pulled it, like a band-aid. The noise immediately stopped. There was a complete silence if not for Alec’s breathing when he stood face to face with himself again. He blinked, and his eyes turned yellow with the split pupils of a cat. And instead of disappearing as they should when he blinked again, and again, they stayed the same. His reflection smiled, a smile he’d never seen on his own face, a smile he wasn't even sure he could make. It gave him a subtle once-over and walked closer, moved in a cat-like, elegant way, most certainly different from his own walk. They looked at each other for a while, and then Alec’s brain shut down, because in that moment his reflection opened its’ mouth and talked to him, in his own voice.

“Hello, Alexander.”


	7. "Mirror mirror on the wall..."

Alec usually took the front entrance to the bakery, out of pure efficiency. It was closer from his bus-stop, and he knew no one minded. If nothing else it looked to outsiders as more customers, which could eventually lure in more actual customers. But today he was heading for the back entrance. His preferred bus had been late, so he’d taken another, and therefore become a few minutes late, and to compensate he now took the new closest path which led to the back entrance. And it would have been like any other day, hadn’t Alec heard voices coming from the small backyard before he turned the corner. He stopped right before he came into their sight to listen. 

He could recognise two of the voices: the clear and distinct voice of Clary, and a darker, slightly arrogant one he could attach to the blonde tattooed man he’d met twice before. The third voice was a female one, sensual and almost familiar, even though he was certain he didn’t recognise it. He gave himself a moment to prepare, so he could immediately detect the glamours the two strangers were most likely wearing, so he knew whether to ignore them or not. And then he turned the corner.

He spotted Clary first, with her orange mane and green top. Secondly, he saw the two glamours between himself and the gaze of the blonde man and a woman he couldn’t place. He expertly moved his gaze as if he never even stopped over them to look. He gave Clary a wave and kept walking, acutely aware of the silence that had followed the lively conversation after his appearance, and the searching looks from both of the strangers. Clary stood awkwardly and pretended to be texting someone on her phone.

“That idiot again. His face does look especially stupid, doesn’t it?” he could hear the blonde man, Jace he remembered, muttering not too quietly. He seemed to be addressing the other woman, who didn’t answer. But the comment still stung, and Alec froze unwillingly. And then an idea came to his mind. He turned around with a smile.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

Clary froze and seemed rather uncomfortable when he smiled at him. “Ah… texting Simon?” She awkwardly gestured to her phone.

“Really?” He lifted one eyebrow. “Because when I was walking here it did sound like you were talking. To yourself.”

She blushed. “I… uh… have a presentation-thingy. For my mother's art-exhibit. I was practising.” The woman next to her huffed in amusement, maybe at Clary's non-existent lying-skills. It suddenly struck Alec where he’d seen the woman before: she’d been the woman in the white wig the night Clary had walked into Jace.

Alec kept pushing, plan firmly in place. “Can I hear a bit?”

“I'm… I'm not really comfortable speaking to an audience yet.” She fingered nervously on her phone.

Alec walked back a bit and stood to lean against the wall opposite Clary. “One person isn’t an audience, Clary.”

She shuffled nervously and stuttered out something inaudible as she cast glances towards the other two. The woman watched without any sign of wanting to interrupt, a wide smile on her red lips and a relaxed stance in her 6-inch heels. Jace, however, looked ready to step in and the look in his eyes had Alec’s pulse speeding up. He knew he was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and he was the mouse. He quickly switched track.

“You know, it didn’t sound much like a presentation. It actually sounded more like a conversation. Were you talking to thin air, Clary?” He smiled in a way he hoped was actually nice and not horrifying like Jo had said his forced smiles were.

She blinked, still uncomfortable. “Hmm, that’s weird. I wasn’t-”

“Do you have imaginary friends?” 

His remark stopped the blonde in his path towards him. He seemed at a loss for what to do with this new development. The woman on the other side of Clary was grinning widely, her red lips a big contrast to her white, even teeth, and dark chocolate irises.

“No. No, I don't, I… no.” Clary stuttered, also taken aback.

“Are you sure? See, I can easily imagine baby-Clary with imaginary friends. Maybe you kept them.” He shrugged.

“You got me.” She lifted her arms in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. “Imaginary friends. Totally.”

“Alright, let me guess.” He tried to look like he was actually thinking it over. “A girl like yourself. Pretty. Tough?” He glanced carefully at the smiling woman, at her dark voluminous hair, toned arms and narrow waist. “A girl, not ginger like you, but with... maybe black hair? Someone strong, and beautiful at once.” Clary was blushing slightly, and the blonde man was leaning against the wall, the picture of nonchalance and boredom. It gave Alec new strength. 

“And when you grew up so did she. Dark eyes, not like yours. She would look perfect, like a model on a magazine. Curvy like them, but with the strength of a boxer. Of course, tinier-Clary would want a strong female fighter to be her idol, her friend. Like all those strong female leads in action movies. Would she dress like them too?” Alec glanced at the woman’s clothes. “Reveling? Red and black? Maybe she’d have tattoos? Am I close?”

At his spot-on description of the woman beside Clary, her eyes went wide and wondering, trying to catch his, but failing. Jace had discarded his nonchalant posture and stood, not quite wary, with a suspicious look in his eyes. Clary was left speechless. 

“And one more. A boy this time.” The woman looked over at Jace expectantly, to hear his description. “Ugly, yeah probably. Like those teasing boys at the playground. Green, greasy complexion, like a troll. Pudgy, acne? Strippy, dirty blonde hair-”, Jace self consciously pulled at a few strands of his hair sourly, while the woman struggled to keep her giggles from escaping her tightly shut mouth. Even Clary smiled. “-and eyes the same colour as muddy water. He’d be weak of course. Slow. A bit stupid.” The woman outright laughed, and Clary had clasped her hand to her mouth, but small wheezing sounds still escaped her as she avoided looking at the murderous man beside her. “I’m feeling this, I’m right aren’t I?”

Clary inclined her head, as the woman placed her hand on the wall to steady herself as she kept laughing heartily, encouraged every time she looked up to see Jace with his face all red and trembling slightly in anger with his hands in fists. 

Alec quickly bid his adieu after that and left, before the man could get the chance and kill him. Inside he heard the man telling the woman, Izzy, to stop laughing, and her responding that “Jace, I don’t think I can.” Alec smiled to himself. 

 

____

 

“So… You’re a magic mirror.” 

The blue-eyed man stood on the other side of the looking-glass. He looked straight into his eyes. Magnus knew he couldn't actually see him, but close enough. That nagging memory in the back of his mind had come back after a few days of him constantly poking at it, and as he now remembered the looking-glass was a mirror. He could see out, but on the other side, they only saw themselves. After this revelation he had started pushing his limits, with an energy he could barely ever remember having, to get through. He called upon his magic, did all possible things. He even started a fire. And it gave results: he could see the man, Alexander, react. He was succeeding in doing something, because the man spent more and more time in front of him, watching him (well sort of, a guy could dream). At one point the man had stood on a chair to touch something above the window, and he had gotten the most glorious glimpse of Alexander's lower abdomen. But better yet had been when he’d winked at him as he came home one morning absolutely gorgeous after a run, and he’d noticed. There was the minor setback of being covered up when he accidentally scared the guy, but that was all past now. Even better, he was talking to him. He had been told that to Alexander it looked like his own reflection moved and talked to him. But that was a minor thing since Magnus could for the very first time in as long as he could properly remember, talk to another living being. And like that, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy.

“I suppose you can say so,” he said with a chuckle, crossing his torso with one arm, and letting the other stay in the air making gestures as they talked.

“Does that mean you can do things? Magic things?” Alexander stood nervously before him. His eyes kept flicking away from his own, but he assumed that might be because he was uncomfortable talking to his own reflection. Even though he himself couldn’t really see the issue of that. 

He shrugged elegantly. “I can talk. I do suppose that counts.”

“Well… yeah. But can you answer questions? Like the mirror in Snow White?” The small smile on his lips made butterflies flutter in Magnus’s stomach. A strange, but not unpleasant sensation.

“I am afraid I’m unfamiliar with what you talk of. Is it a story?” He looked at him curiously.

“Yes! A children's story.” He gestured wildly and smiled. “It doesn’t matter what it’s about, but can I ask you something? Like the Evil Queen asked the mirror?” This thought seemed to highly excite him and Magnus could feel his own lips being pulled upwards.

“Are you comparing yourself with an evil queen?” He smiled amusedly as he watched Alexander blush.

“...No.”

He sighed dramatically. “Alright then. Let’s see if I can answer your question.”

“Yeah… ok.” Alexander took a breath to calm himself and wipe the smile off of his face. Then he said, quite seriously: “Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”

Magnus stood stunned for a moment, but then he laughed. “… I did not expect that question. But I do say I have the answer.”

Alexander's eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, serious once more. “I am.”

“You are?” He frowned, disbelieving.

“Yes. I am the fairest of them all.” He looked at him challengingly, waiting to see if he would object.

Alexander laughed, and instead of feeling offended, all he could think of was that it was the most beautiful sound he could ever remember hearing.

____

 

“And you have to do this tomorrow too? Or tonight I suppose?” Simon asked as he walked next to Alec. Alec had just finished his first shift at the Roundhouse this week, and Simon had only been bothering him for an hour or so. 

“Yeah.” Alec shrugged.

Simon winced in sympathy. "Man..."

Alec turned slightly towards him without stopping. “You think you can go home and sleep now and stop pestering me?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” 

Alec rolled his eyes when Simon wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Is there something else going on?”

The question seemed to confuse Simon. “What do you mean?” he said when he turned to Alec, his eyebrows knitted together.

“More than Clary?” Alec let some of his annoyance and frustration seep into his voice.

“Uh… Maybe?”

He sighed. “Hit me,” he gestured towards himself like Simon was actually going to hit him.

“I don’t know…” Simon pushed up his glasses and proceeded to nervously drag his hand through his hair.

“Well, I’m not getting rid of you until you decide you’re ready, so please do talk.”

Now Simon sighed. “It’s my mum.”

“She forgot all about your band practice again or something?” Alec looked away to give Simon some space. Instead, he looked at the clear sky. He could see the full moon shining far up there in the sky like a far away streetlamp. 

“No. Well yes, but… I’m not sure she even listens to me. Like, I talk about Rock Solid Panda and it’s like she shuts me out. I don’t think she gets how important music is to me.”

At his low voice, Alec turned back. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing?” He smiled, likely hoping to turn it into some kind of a joke. Alec didn’t bite and instead gave him his most unimpressed face. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know that.”

Alec stopped and reached out and put a hand on Simon’s chest to stop Simon too. “Dude, no.” He pushed him slightly back. “Fight me on it. Tell me why you’re not an idiot.”

“But I am.” Simon stepped back, hands in front of him, gesturing as he spoke. “I am an idiot, for studying for a job I don’t even want only to please my mum, because I don’t want to upset her so she goes back to drinking, and the same way I fear ever moving out, like Rebecca, and leave her alone, and I feel like I’m not even living my own life because I keep making all my choices for her, and whenever I get to play a gig with my band it’s so bittersweet because I know I won't be able to keep at it, and I’ll back to my awful classes and I’m so fucking tired of compromising, you know?”

Alec deadpanned and said nothing, only crossed his arms.

“That… I’m an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

Alec let his arms fall and resumed walking. “I know,” he called back.

Simon hurried to catch up. “What do I do?” he said slightly out of breath.

“Talk to your mum, properly talk." He cast a stern gaze at Simon, knowing fully well that Simon had a tendency to chicken out of distressing conversations. "And maybe to your sister too, it’s not all on you.” Alec suddenly thought of seeing Clary with the two danger-emitting strangers and quickly added: “And let Clary be. She’s your best friend, she’ll come back to you when she’s ready.” He didn’t feel very convinced by his own words.

“Dude. You’re actually kind of nice.”

“Will you stop talking now? At this rate, I’ll be deaf in my thirties.”

“Well imagine how it’s like for me! I have to live with myself all the time.” Simon happily skipped ahead and turned to walk backwards so he could look at Alec.

“I don’t know how you stand it.”

“Actually, it’s not that-”

“Shhh!” Alec paused and put out a hand, to do what he wasn’t sure.

“What?” Simon turned around again so they faced the same direction.

“I heard something.”

“Did you now? In London? How strange,” he laughed, but was cut short by Alec.

“Seriously, shut up.”

“Fine. You could be more subtle about it though.”

“Shh!” Alec put his lifted hand over Simon’s mouth when he heard the sound again. Simon stilled, and when he saw his wide eyes, he removed his hand, and immediately wiped it on his trousers. 

“What was that???” Simon looked around him in a jerky way, almost stumbling into Alec in his 360° turn.

“I don’t know.”

“That sounded like an animal. You think it’s a dog? Street dog?” He nervously twisted his hands.

“No. Be silent.”

And like on a given cue Alec saw something moving ahead of them, further down the deserted alley they’d turned into. He stood absolutely still as he met the eyes of the big dark shadow moving under the moonlight. As it stepped further into the light of the streetlamps he saw green glowing eyes, bared teeth, four legs and grey harsh-looking fur.

He could feel Simon tensing up beside him. “That… That’s a wolf. A wolf! There are no fucking wolves in London! How did it even get here?!” There was full-fledged panic in his voice, and Alec struggled to not let himself get affected. 

“I don’t think that’s what we should be focusing on right now,” he bit out.

“It is really big,” Simon said with a tone of bewilderment also sneaking into his voice. “Is it just me or is it looking at us?”

“Not just you.” Alec checked behind them quickly, but there was nowhere to hide, and nowhere to run.

“Shit. Dear god, shit! What are we gonna do?!”

“We nothing. Stand back.” Alec pushed him behind himself.

“What? I can’t just leave you to fight off a really big, angry looking wolf on your own! Should I call the police?”

“No!” Alec looked at him sharply. “They won’t believe you anyway.”

“Then what do we do-”

Suddenly the wolf jumped towards them, and that was all Simon had time to say before he was flying backwards after a strong push from Alec. Alec managed to step out of the way of the wolf and they circled each other warily. Alec could hear Simon struggling to get air into his lungs on the ground a few steps away, and so he led the wolf further away from him. When the wolf launched again Alec pulled out a small silver knife he’d recently invested in and lashed out at the same time. He stumbled back from the impact with the wolf, but unharmed, and saw the wolf looking even angrier. It got ready to attack again, but when Alec moved the knife in a half circle around him it seemed to hesitate. After standing still for a long time the wolf finally stepped back, turned and ran away. Alec, when he couldn’t see it anymore, hid the knife again, and hurried over to Simon. He was still coughing and seemingly unaware of what was happening. When he came to it, he grabbed Alec’s hand and let himself get hauled up. He looked ruffled, but not seriously hurt, and after a moment to focus his sight, he spoke.

“Where did it go?”

“I scared it off.”

“A wolf?” He said disbelieving, staring at Alec through lopsided glasses.

“Yeah, I read a book on it.” 

“Of course you did,” he huffed.

Alec put a hand on his arm as he led him out of there, paying attention to Simon’s feet so he wouldn’t stumble on something and hurt himself further.

“Come on. I’ll take you to my place, and I’ll check out that shoulder of yours.” Alec cast a quick glance at the partly torn-up patch on Simon’s hoodie.

Simon only hummed.

When Alec finally managed to get Simon to his apartment he had to let him go quickly to get out his keys so he could actually get them inside. He heard a thud at the same time he turned the key in the lock. After having opened the door he turned back and had to pull Simon up from the floor where he had decided to sit.

“Come on,” he gritted out as he stopped Simon from stupidly waving at the mirror and it, of course, waving back, and directed him inside. He was careful to not have Simon accidentally break anything, as he seemed to do as easily as breathing. Not until he had Simon sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen could he relax. As long as he didn’t fall out of the chair it should all be good.

He got out his first aid kit and put it down next to Simon. He seemed to get the hint and fumbled with the zipper on his hoodie as he yawned for a stupidly long amount of time. Eventually, Alec swatted his hands away when watching him struggle only made his own fingers itch and his head throb. He pulled it down, and helped Simon to get it off. Then he took the time to properly look at him. He looked awful. His eyes were droopy and his otherwise so expressive face hanged like a too-big shirt on a scrawny frame. Alec went behind him and with careful fingers felt over Simon’s head, to try to find if, and in that case, where he’d hit it. And he had if the rather big bump at the back of his head was anything to go by. But there seemed to be no open wounds as he couldn’t feel any blood, neither wet nor dried. To be sure he asked Simon how he was feeling. Could he see properly? The sarcastic answer to that convinced Alec that he was quite fine, if only very tired.

It took Alec sometime before he managed to convince Simon that he had to remove his T-shirt if Alec was going to be able to inspect his shoulder, yes Simon, even if it was cold without it.

Simon’s shoulder was already bruising and had gotten a bit scratched up, but there was no swelling at least, so he took it as a good sign. He quickly cleaned it and gave Simon one of his own clean T-shirts to sleep in. Simon gave him half a nod in thanks, pulled on the shirt and stumbled into Alec’s living room only to fall straight onto his couch and after only a minute or so Alec could hear small snores.

As he packed away the first-aid-kit he shook his head fondly. However annoying he found Simon, he did like him. He never had to feel awkward or insecure talking to him, his bluntness and tendency to fill any silence took off the strain Alec might otherwise feel. It was easy to bicker with Simon. And Alec wasn’t used to easy. But then his mood soured. Simon had seen that wolf. He had seen the mirror. It was possible to explain away the mirror as a mirage of his tiredness, but the wolf would be difficult. And Simon never had been the one to let something go.

Alec stepped into the shower as he thought of ways to explain it away. He was still thinking of it as he took something to eat, his breakfast. He said goodnight to the mirror and got a “night, luv” back, he checked on Simon who slept soundly and went to bed himself, completely exhausted. At least he had decided on a strategy if Simon didn’t let it go: He would call in the pro.

______

Simon reached out to grab his glasses on his nightstand, but when his hands found nothing but emptyness, he stretched even further until he suddenly fell off his bed with a heavy thud as he hit the floor. He sat up and took in his blurry surroundings. That was not his bed. Not his room, definitely not his home. He turned back and found his glasses on the couch behind him, and apprehensive of what he would see he put them on. After a moment of confusion due to the strange room, his memories came rushing back. He remembered calling Clary after another one of the “his-mother-would-not-listen-to-him” moments but had given up after having called three times and still no answer. Then he could remember heading out after twisting and turning in his bed, unable to sleep, and without any real goal ending up by the Roadhouse, and seeing Alec inside. He’d talked to him, met Jo again, and when his shift ended had decided to walk him home, feeling strangely comforted by Alec’s somewhat dark and looming presence. He remembered walking to the subway with him, remembered telling him about his mother and being called an idiot, both by Alec and himself. And he remembered the wolf. 

He rushed up and ran out to find Alec. Panic was steadily growing in the pool of his stomach when he couldn’t find him, but he managed to calm down, standing embarrassed when he tore the bathroom door open to find Alec there. Alec turned around to give him an unimpressed look only to turn back and continue to clean the toilet.

“You’re up.” 

“Yup.” Simon nervously dragged his hand through his hair.

“How are you feeling?” Alec leaned back and glanced back at Simon.

“Good. I mean my shoulder hurts and I might be insane, because that was a wolf yesterday on the streets of London and you’re completely calm just cleaning your toilet and I…”

Alec turned and started back up with the cleaning.

“I’m good.” Simon finished. There was a beat or two of silence when the only things heard was Alec scrubbing away at the toilet. Eventually he broke it, just as Simon was thinking of backing away. 

“I left some toast out for you.”

“Ah. Food. Good idea.” He smiled awkwardly at Alec’s back and spun around to get out of there. He debated briefly if he was supposed to close the bathroom door again, but decided to leave it open. Then, at least, if he crashed anything Alec would hear him and come rushing.

In the kitchen, he went ahead and took of what was offered. He noticed that Alec had returned first when he turned around with his mouth filled with toast and jam and found Alec leaning against the wall.

“I fou so stawbewy ja inn e fidge.”

“What?”

He struggled to swallow. “Strawberry jam. I found some. In your fridge.”

Alec frowned. “That must have expired years ago. I can’t even remember buying it.”

“Oh.”

His frown disappeared as the corners of his mouth pulled up slightly. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh. Hah…”

He pushed off the wall and walked closer. “Let me have a look at your shoulder,” he said and gestured for Simon to turn around.

Simon attempted to pull off the T-shirt he only now realised wasn’t his, but got stuck with his head and glasses and gave up, afraid his glasses would fall off and break if he kept pulling. He heard Alec hum and felt cold fingertips against his shoulder, and then suddenly he could see again as Alec pulled down the shirt.

“It looks good. You’re gonna be sore, but I’d worry more about that bump on your head.”

That made Simon immediately feel at the back of his head and wincing as he felt the comically big bump there. 

“Yesterday. Or this morning. Was that real? Did I really see that wolf? Was the wolf real?”

Alec was about to say something, most likely a denial deeming from his condescending face, but then a voice interrupted him.

“I have been quite polite and not interrupted so far, but I am honestly confused here. Who’s the stranger and what is he doing here, and what wolf are you talking about?”

Simon’s eyes widened. He looked at Alec and saw how he seemed to grow paler and how his mouth closed to a thin line. Simon looked in the direction of the voice and when he saw the panic on Alec’s face he could suddenly recall seeing Alec’s reflection wave at him as he was steered into Alec’s apartment earlier. He ran.

He rounded the corner, hearing Alec behind him, but then he stood in front of the mirror and saw not his own reflection but Alec’s. But not the Alec he saw frozen next to him wearing sweats and a loose T-shirt. No, the Alec in front of him wore Alec’s tight black jeans and his denim button-up he’d seen Alec wear the first time he saw him working at the bar. This Alec didn’t look like Alec. He didn’t look tired and surly. He looked confident, and when he smiled knowingly at him, Simon felt a pull in his stomach and had to admit that this Alec couldn't be described as anything but hot. 

“Ah. Glasses. Well, don’t be shy. Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, as it seems like Alexander, my darling, completely lost his manners. Not that had a lot of them to begin with.”

Simon could only stare as Alec’s strange reflection spoke to him. In Alec’s voice. He looked at the real Alec in helpless wonder, and confusion. Alec's face was set in stone, but he did walk over to stand next to Simon.

“Mirror, this is Simon. Simon this is my… magic mirror.”

“Magic?”

“I know, honey. But you better believe it, because I’m very real.”

“Why does it-” Simon turned to look at Alec but when he refused to meet his eyes looked over at Alec/Mirror. “Why do you look like Alec?”

“Honestly I haven’t gotten a lot of alternatives.” The mirror blurred and suddenly Simon was staring at himself, albeit a smirking version of him, who managed to somehow make Simon’s mess into ‘a style’. 

“Alexander does have very nice broad shoulders doesn’t he?” his reflection said and pulled at the loose shirt hanging off his shoulders. Simon realised slightly embarrassed that it wasn’t one of Alec’s oversized T-shirts, but rather one that would be semi-tight on him. 

Then the mirror blurred again and Alec/Mirror stood in front of them. “Much better. No offence Sherwin, but I do prefer my men tall and blue-eyed.”

“Simon. It’s Simon.”

“Right. Now tell me. Why are you here?”

Simon turned to look at Alec, and this seemed to prompt him into answering. There was a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Simon was walking with me home after work, and then he fell and got hurt. I got him here to look him over. Then he fell asleep.”

“Hey! I didn’t fall, you pushed me! Because. There. Was. A. Wolf.”

“Wolf?”

“Yes! A wolf!”

“In London?”

“Yes! Ok? I think so?” He quieted down, then looked around and took a step back. “What am I doing? I’m talking about seeing a giant wolf in London before sunrise with a talking mirror. I’m losing it.” He turned around and walked back into the kitchen, and kept going until he was lying on the couch with one arm draped over his eyes. He could hear Alec walking in after him. Then he couldn’t hear anything else, so he assumed he either left again or stood still creepily watching him. And honestly, Simon had no idea which would be more credible for Alec.

He would have loved to keep lying there dramatically, but he was a restless soul, and soon he was sitting up. Alec wasn’t watching him. Good. He walked around the room to try and locate his shirt, and when he couldn’t see it he walked out, saw Alec talking to someone on the phone but ignored it. He found his T-shirt in Alec’s sink. It was soaking in cold water. He went to find his hoodie instead and found it hanging on a hook in the hallway. He pulled off Alec’s T-shirt with some effort and dropped it on the floor. Instead, he zipped up his hoodie, even though it was a little scratched up where he’d landed earlier. It made him feel better to have his own clothes again. He was just contemplating sneaking off when Alec came in.

“I need you to stay. I called someone, and they’ll explain everything, alright? I need to get to work soon. Here's a key, lock behind you when you leave, you can return the key some other time.”

Simon stood there. Listening. Thinking. Not quite comprehending.

“Explain what exactly?”

“Everything.”

“In the UNIVERSE?”

“You’ll understand. It’s probably for the best. It’s not like you’re gonna forget this anyway.”

“Forget… this? The wolf? The talking Mirror?”

“I’m right here honey.” The mirror said behind Alec.

“Not helping.”

“Just… stay. Alright?” Alec dragged a hand over his face and looked at Simon with a look that was o so very tired. “Can you do that?” Simon felt like no wasn’t really an option.

“...Yeah? I suppose?”

He sighed. “Is your phone charged?”

“No.”

“Then use mine.”

“For what?”

“Your mother?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh shit!”

 

-o-

 

So Simon might have gotten a little bit bored after the first 30 minutes of sitting still, and sitting still for 30 minutes and not doing anything is very impressive, so Simon didn't really see it as a defeat when he began exploring Alec’s apartment. I mean he’d already been through everywhere when he looked for his T-shirt, but that had been brief. His T-shirt had by the way been soaking because it was slightly bloody after he scraped up his shoulder. He had been kind of curious about how Alec knew that, like, did he have sisters? Did he, like Simon when he was smaller, get nosebleeds sometimes? Was he bullied? Did he bully? But contradictory to common belief Simon did value his life and was not stupid enough to ask. There had been another offer of a T-shirt but he had declined, his hoodie was just fine. And besides he wasn’t sure how much further Alec’s hospitality would last, in all fairness he’d been pretty nice so far but it was still Alec. There was a reason why people, Simon included, felt intimidated by him.

Simon walked around. The kitchen felt like the safest area to explore. He opened a cupboard or two, or maybe every single one. Glasses. Plates. Cutlery. A well-filled med-kit. A single flower vase. Cereal, fibre-rich with minimal sugar of course. His fridge was full of the normal stuff you'd find in a fridge. After going through everything he found one half-eaten chocolate bar, one separately stored silver knife, one mug painted by a child and 7 pens. Stealing the chocolate (this time after checking the expiration date) he left to check out the rest of the apartment. He found some training gear, unsurprisingly, and the main price: Alec's computer! It took him a surprisingly small effort to get into it. Alec really should change his password. It was embarrassing. Anyway. Simon spent the next hour and a half logged into Netflix rewatching Breaking Bad. That was the main reason why he jumped a foot into the air when he heard a knock on the door. It took him some time to remember that Alec had told him to wait for someone. So he sadly closed the computer and walked to the door. He opened it slightly apprehensive. It was not what he expected.

“Are you going to let me in, or what?”

“Uh...“ was his intelligent answer. But nonetheless, he did open the door wider and stepped aside to let the shorter man pass him which he, of course, did smoothly and with more grace than Simon had ever possessed in his not very long life, admittedly.

Raphael stood leaning against the wall when Simon entered the living room.

“Uh, Alec’s isn’t here.”

“I know.”

“Did he call you?”

He raised one perfect eyebrow and managed to in that small movement convey exactly what he thought of Simon's intellect. “Well done.”

Simon flushed red. “Honestly I don’t really know what I’m doing here," he spluttered out in defence, feeling oddly cornered by the man. Which made even less sense considering the guy was leaning against the wall and Simon was standing in the middle of the room several steps away. 

Raphael pushed off the wall effortlessly, and slowly approached him. "You don't?" His face was set in stone as so often, but something in his eyes made Simon suspect he was actually amused by the situation. He stopped in front of him. Simon knew objectively that he was taller than the man, but still, he felt small. “You see, I think you do know why you’re here.”

“I do?”

“Mmm.” Raphael looked down briefly and Simon’s eyes got stuck on Raphael’s eyelashes. When his eyes turned back up Simon's mouth went dry. “Alec is currently unaware of my ability to make mundanes like you forget your own name, he thought the only option was for me to tell you.”

Simon managed to swallow and cleared his throat. “Mundanes? Are you really weirdly picking me up?”

Raphael chuckled. “No.” His eyes travelled over Simon’s body. “If I were you wouldn’t have to ask, baby.” He leaned back, and suddenly the intensity of his gaze was gone and he looked simply bored. “Alec called me to tell you the truth, give you the grand speech etcetera.”

“The speech?” His voice was unsteady. Simon could feel how his heart was thumping away way too fast in his chest, and the sudden changes in atmosphere fueled his uncertainty and only added to his confusion. 

But Raphael merely rolled his eyes. “There’s no need to repeat everything I say, I didn’t misspeak.”

“Sorry.” Simon pulled a hand through his hair, and then straightened his glasses. He couldn’t keep his hands still.

“You saw things, ¿no? Things you couldn’t explain, who made no sense?”

“If you mean the wolf I’ve practically convinced myself it was a really big dog.”

“¿De verdad? No te creo.”

“Speaking Spanish is not helping me being less confused here.” 

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You lie. You know very well what you saw.”

“Nope. No, I really don’t.” He pushed up his glasses again and refused to meet his eyes.

Suddenly Raphael crossed the last step in between them and stood so close Simon could have counted his eyelashes if he’d dared. He looked into his eyes and Simon felt his heart racing, in fear and maybe something more? But the man kept his face an unmoving mask and slowly raised his hands to Simon’s face. He put one hand on either side, putting a light pressure on his temples with two fingers. Simon had barely any time to register how cool his fingers were before the man spoke to him in an o so smooth, velvet voice. Simon could do little more than breathe as he felt the rest of the world falling away as he looked into those dark, dark eyes.

“You know what you saw. Remember, not what you want to see but what you actually saw. Don’t doubt yourself.”

Simon was suddenly standing next to Alec again, watching as the scene played out in front of him. They talked and then a wolf appeared. A wolf. Most certainly not a dog. Its’ eyes glowed an unnatural green in the dark as it bared its’ teeth. He had time to see Alec move into a defensive stance before he was pushed back and stood once more in Raphael’s grip. Simon was breathing harshly, like he’d been running, and his pulse beat loudly in his ears. He calmed down when Raphael didn’t move, only blinking and slowly letting some of the pressure of his fingers leave Simon's temples.

“Was it a dog you saw?” he asked eventually.

“No-n-n-no. And I’m not even sure that was a wolf. Its’ eyes were glowing! Like in Teen Wolf, but green.”

He tilted his head. “What do you think it was?”

“I don’t know.”

Raphael let him go suddenly and backed up. He turned and stood by the windows looking out at the quickly darkening sky.

“What was it?” Simon took a step to get closer.

“Do you believe in fairytales? In horror stories?” He turned his head to look at Simon. “In legends?”

“I believe most stories hold some level of truth.”

He turned back to the window, his voice almost distant. “Do you believe in monsters?” His hand had sneaked up to his neck and Simon could see a golden cross gleaming in between his fingers.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, man. Monsters aren’t real.”

Raphael turned slowly and leaned against the wall. “And who told you that?” He looked completely relaxed but Simon could feel him radiation superiority and almost… disappointment? 

“Everyone?”

“Every human? Everyone who isn’t a monster? Who’s never seen a monster? Who’s never even tried to find one, who simply accepted a truth handed down for generations?” He chuckled humorlessly, and the cold sound gave Simon goosebumps. “How many of those old truths are really true, today? Are women lower creatures? Homosexuality, is that a disease? Is the earth flat?”

“They have been proved wrong. There’s no evidence for monsters.” He could feel himself frowning. Where was Raphael trying to go with this?

“Oh, there are. But you are so comfortable in your bubble you choose not to see.”

“You? What do you mean ‘you’? Like you and I aren’t the same thing?”

“Would you really say that we belong in the same category?” Once again Simon was met with one perfect eyebrow-raise. 

“No… But that’s mainly because you’re really ho- Hispanic?” Simon tried to subtly wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans, but considering how Raphael’s gaze didn’t seem to leave him, he doubted he succeeded.

“I can only show you the truth if you’re willing to see it.”

“Are you trying to tell me monsters are real?”

“Yes.”

Simon looked at him disbelieving for a while. This absolutely gorgeous man was telling him monsters were real? “And that what? There’s an entire world out there that I don’t know about, like in some kind of fantasy youth novel?”

“Yes.”

He stared some more. “I mean, cool. But that would never happen. I would never be the main character in something like that.”

He lifted, again, one elegantly shaped eyebrow. Was that some kind of signature move? he thought momentarily distracted, before getting back on track.

“I’m serious. The nerdy, funny one is never the main character. They’re the sidekick, the best friend. They don’t get the gorgeous love interest. Not that you’re my love interest!” Simon blushed furiously. “Oh my god I’m so sorry! Wait… If I’m the sidekick, does that mean Clary is the main character? She would be a good one. Then why are you here? Telling me? You got the wrong one.”

“Simon.”

“Yes?”

“Please stop talking.”

“Yup.”

Raphael stepped close gain. His mouth stretched into a smile that sent shivers down Simon’s spine, but then his face contorted and he bared glistening white fangs and hissed at him. Fear hit Simon like a physical punch and he fell backwards and quickly scrambled as far away from him as he could. A raw instinctual fear clawed at his chest and screamed at him to RUN because that was a MONSTER and he needed to leave if he wanted to SURVIVE. But then Raphael knelt before him and held out his hand. His face looked perfectly normal and there was something soft in his eyes. Simon looked at his stretched out hand, his heart beating like crazy and his inner voice still screaming for him to get away. But he’d never been very good at listening to it anyway. So he took it and felt a strong pull. Raphael put a hand on his shoulder to steady him when he suddenly stood on his feet again.

“What was that?” His voice was shaky but stronger than he’d thought.

“That was one of your few survival instincts kicking in. Deeply buried, but your unconscious has always recognized us for what we are.”

“Monsters?”

He nodded. “According to some.”

“Please don’t make me say it, I don’t want to be your Bella.” 

Raphael grimaced and let his hand fall from Simon’s shoulder. “That book-series is astonishingly inaccurate.”

Simon could feel his mouth falling open before he quickly shut it and half-shouted: “You’ve read Twilight?!”

“Díos mío, hombre.”

“Ok, you’re right. Focusing. You’re a vampire.” A thought struck him. “And so that wolf was a werewolf?”

Raphael smirked. “I knew there must be a brain behind that blabbering mouth.”

“Rude, but I can see why. What else is real?” Technically Simon knew that he should be freaking out right now, but how often hadn’t he imagined scenarios like this? Dreamed of it? 

“Demons, warlocks, seelies. Even angels are real.”

“Wow. Do you know any warlocks?”

“I do.”

“Can I meet them?”

“¿Estas serio? ¿Un vampiro está enfrente de ti y quieres saber sobre los brujos?”

 

-o-

 

Simon was a rather nice person, or he liked to think so himself. But one couldn’t quite call him a very moral guy. For example, if Simon had taken some human(and not quite human) rights a little more seriously he wouldn’t have activated the GPS on Raphael’s phone when he’d given it to him last week so he could put in his number. And he wouldn’t be standing outside a construction site after having followed Raphael's movements and seen that he returned to the same place every day and stayed there. When he now knew that Raphael was a vampire, that meant he couldn’t be outside during the day so, conclusion: This was his hideout. His nest. His lair. His… home? 

Well, had Simon had a slightly stronger moral he wouldn’t be standing there right now. But he was. And yes, it was daytime. He wasn’t stupid enough to come snooping around a possible vampire-nest during the night. 

He looked up at the tall building, covered in scaffolds, with plastic signs hanging off them with the name ‘DuMort construction’ plastered on. Simon couldn’t help but chuckle slightly when his gaze travelled to the side and he found the slogan:   
‘Live your way now  
… and forever.’

He glanced up at the building. He hadn't ever noticed it before. In truth, it wasn’t in a neighbourhood he often visited, but buildings this big usually didn’t go unnoticed. Briefly, he wondered if it hid something else. Raphael had told him, in the cold and bored voice he had, about glamours. How that was how they managed to hide from humanity. Or mundanes, as he and every other human were apparently called by the ‘downworld’. He had been trying to see things properly, by its’ true nature, ever since Raphael showed him but so far he hadn’t succeeded. That did not mean he was giving up though.

He looked down at the map on his phone. Raphael's dot remained inside the building. Simon left, with the decision to return; soon.


	8. “Come again? Hotel of DEATH?”

“Yeah no, I know I've been, uh, distracted lately-” Simon’s mouth snapped shut as he was abrupted. He winced as Maureen kept on yelling at him. It didn’t exactly help that she was right. He’d been a shitty friend, no scratch that, he is a shitty friend. As she kept pounding his ego into the ground he let his eyes wander around him. He was at the DuMort again. Yes. He knew it was a really stupid idea, especially since the sun was already teasing the building-filled horizon with a light touch. It wouldn’t take long for it to completely disappear. He really shouldn’t be here. He should be home, scrolling through Tumblr after having eaten himself full on his mum’s food. Instead, he was standing in the shadow of a building in construction. Or rather a vampire nest. Whichever you’d rather call it. There was an unusual chill in the breeze and he was glad for his hoodie, especially as there was a chocolate bar in his left pocket, which would most likely serve as his already delayed dinner.

“I know, I know. I shouldn't have just cancelled, but things have been… A bit crazy lately.” He let out a long sigh, closed his eyes and slid his fingers under his glasses to rub the tiredness from his eyes. 

“I'm sorry Maureen. I'm like, super-sorry.” It was true. It was. He didn’t want to let her down, or Eric or any of his friends. He didn’t want to let Clary down, or his mum or his sister. And the guilt twisted his guts every time he lied to any of them, when he came up with excuses or avoided their questions. But… there was just something about this crazy world he’d glimpsed, the magic of it, the horror. There was something about waking up in Alec’s apartment and talking to a magic mirror, of learning the truth in his living room by a real, living (ish) vampire, and gazing into his eyes and… Shit.

“I'll make it up to you. I swear.” Simon said when he noticed that Maureen had continued speaking, something he’d completely missed. He hoped she was still going on about how he was letting her and the band down, otherwise this might get awkward. 

“Oh, uh, it's… It’s nothing. No, it's not nothing at all, cuz I wouldn't have missed band practice for nothing, it's, it’s uh, it’s complicated,” he stuttered as her surprisingly soft inquiry took him completely by surprise. He cast a quick glance at the pink skyline, where he could no longer see the sun. Nervously he pushed his glasses up his nose from where they’d slid down.

“Complicated like… A personal crisis of sorts?” He couldn't help but run a hand through his hair nervously as he waited and hoped (maybe even prayed a little) that Maureen would let it go. He needed to get out of there, but he couldn’t leave until he'd had the time to dreamingly gaze up at the building, as he always did. 

“No, no I'm totally OK. Yeah. It's just stuff with my mum and university and all that. Finding my path…” He trailed off as he sneaked another look at the rapidly darkening sky. 

“I'm really sorry. I won't miss it again…” He thought for a beat and before he could stop himself he blurted out: “Unless I'm dead. Or severally Injured. Or you know. Yeah. Thanks, Maureen. Bye.” A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he finally ended the call. He turned to look up at what he figured must be the entrance of the building. Or maybe one of the entrances. Maybe the back entrance? It still only looked like a construction site to him. Nothing of the flashy or goth-y he expected must be the real appearance of a vampire lair. Like honestly, it was a vampire lair. Of course it must look epic. 

“Excuse me,” a smooth voice said far too close for comfort, and Simon spun around with his heart lodged in his throat. “Are you insane or just an idiot?” Raphael said where he’d a) snuck up behind Simon or b) materialized out of thin air. Maybe there was a third option, he was still unsure what he could count as myth concerning vampires, or really, anything supernatural. What was even natural anymore?

And so from his inner turmoil of ‘what-just-happened’ and ‘o-shit-I-got-caught’ and ‘wow-that-suit-looks-really-good-oh-my-god-I-need-to-stop,’ all he got out was an ever so eloquent: “Huh?” 

Raphael took a step forward, his dark blue suit stretching over his chest and his always so perfect hair held firmly in place. There was a harsh edge to his voice that Simon was unaccustomed to, instead of the teasing, the supreme or even the bored tone he usually heard. He took another step and as his eyes bored into Simon’s his heart fell from its position in his throat to somewhere around his knees, filling him with dread and more than a little bit of fear. He stepped back as Raphael got closer. His lips were pulled tight and his posture stiff, something burning in his eyes, scaring Simon. He tried to decipher if this was his real feelings, or if it was just his “natural instincts” kicking in because Raphael was a monster he was supposedly meant to be afraid of. In the end it didn’t matter, because Raphael looked like a predator and Simon felt very much like a prey. He backer further.

“You can't think I'm interested in saving your mundane life?” The words slipped out easily from his lips as he raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. Suddenly it all seemed so stupid. Why was he here? What did he possibly think would happen when he, a scrawny, very human still-teenager, decided to lurk around a real-actual-vampire-nest?

“Honestly no. No. I don't think that.”

Raphael got closer, and Simon knew the door of the building was nearing his back. Raphael cast an eye behind himself before he turned to Simon again, turned with those beautiful, endless eyes of his. Simon could see his ivory fangs behind his lips as he spoke to Simon in a low almost intimate voice. “Get out of here. And don't come back.”

Simon quickly glanced up before going back to Raphael’s face, his eyebrows low and the shape of his mouth threateningly showing his fangs. He was beautiful. And probably the most terrifying thing Simon had ever laid his eyes on. He was so gone. 

“Go. Now.” 

Simon stalled for a second too long, and then the vampire opened his mouth and snarled and the pure fear and adrenaline that immediately kicked in was enough to have him scrambling away, almost falling, before he ran barely even looking in which direction. 

 

__________________________

 

Alec rolled out of bed, groaning as the strong light filtering in through his windows filled his eyes, and he shut them immediately. He dragged a hand over his face and walked out into the kitchen in his sweats, not bothering to put on a shirt as the summer heat easily kept even him, a several-layers-enthusiast, warm. He looked at the time and felt himself relax. He had been positively exhausted after his night-shift at the pub, but now he thankfully had several hours to actually do something he wanted instead of needed. Later he’d have to go grocery shopping, but for now, he could enjoy a well-cooked brunch and maybe even read something? That would be nice. 

Alec settled on his couch with his graciously stacked plate and the second cup of the day, ready to finally continue reading that one book he’d had lying around for forever. But as he flipped the first page, he couldn’t ignore that intruding though that had been haunting him ever since he started to prepare brunch. After another page barely registered he sighed frustratedly and rose again, grabbed his food but left his book on the table. The strong whistle that sounded the moment he stepped into the hall almost had him dropping his plate, and a few drops of his coffee escaped his cup. The Mirror did apologise for that, almost sincerely, after Alec had wiped up the coffee from the floor and pulled over a chair and sat down in front of the mirror. 

“What brings you here, Alexander? Not that I’m complaining, I'm simply curious.” The reflection smirked, making his own face almost unrecognisable to Alec. The reflection let its eyes drop down, watching Alec as if he was… worth watching.

“I don’t know. I guess…” he came to an end as he blushed furiously. He quickly hid his face by taking a sip of his coffee. “I thought you might be lonely,” he muttered, his eyes kept on his cup.

“Lonely here in my golden frame? Well if it brings me the opportunity to gaze at your a-” Alec’s eyes snapped up and he held out a warning finger.

“I will put on a shirt.”

The Mirror chuckled, mirth clear in its eyes. “I’ll say no more.”

For a while there was silence. Alec ate, and the mirror seemed content in watching him, neither of them minded the silence. They’d started to come to know each other, and although it was evident that the mirror enjoyed being included, it mostly respected Alec’s need for privacy and silence. 

As Alec finished chewing and finished his thoughts, his eyes came back to meet those of his reflection, yellow with cat slits this time. Alec tried to ignore the way they made his skin feel hot and made his stomach flutter. He closed his eyes momentarily and pushed down his feelings. He was good at that after all. He took a breath. “You don’t remember Raphael?” He searched his reflection for some sign of recognition, for some reaction. “He’s been here several times, perfect suits and radiation superiority?” The reflection continued to smile, cocked its head slightly and gave an impression of considering the possibility, but then shook its head. 

“No, I can’t say that I do. But then again, I remember almost nothing from before,” it said with a dismissive gesture.

Alec frowned, putting away his empty plate un the floor. “Before what?”

“Simply before.” The reflection twirled its hands and the light reflected in the rings on its fingers, rings Alec didn’t own and had never worn. It smiled softly. “I remember seeing you for the first time.” The smile faltered and it looked down, sombre. “But everything before that is hazy. I remember seeing faces, but I can’t picture them. I remember rooms and glimpses of seas and forests, but nothing in detail.” The frustration the Mirror felt was evident in its borrowed voice. “But-” It said changing its tone, locking eyes with Alec, a strange vulnerability in those yellow orbs. “Since I first saw you it’s like… something in me has awoken. Everything is so much more focused now.”

Alec blinked. He frowned and drained his cup. He changed the topic. “I’ve been meaning to ask you; There is a word on top of your frame. I thought maybe you might know what it means?” He chanced a glance up but the blue of his own eyes was back.

“I might.”

Alec let his eyes wander up to the top of the golden frame. The words were as clear as they had been the first time he’d seen them. “It says Bane.”

“Bane?” The Mirror sounded strange. It frowned, and the reflection was suddenly hit by an invisible breeze, its hair flying back and its clothes lifting to reveal its lower abdomen, where for a moment there was no bellybutton. Alec kept quiet as the wind in the mirror only seemed to increase, pulling at his reflection from all directions. And in all of that was there an expression on its borrowed face as if it was… remembering? “Bane… I believe… It might be my name.” It looked up at Alec, and the wind disappeared, and a look of pure delight filled its face.

“You remember your name?” Alec said dumbfounded.

“Almost, almost. Wait. It’s…” Its eyes gleamed and the smile on its face was more blinding than Alec had ever seen his own. It laughed, but it wasn’t Alec’s laughter. It was higher and more melodic. Alec wanted to hear it again. “It’s my surname! I can’t remember hearing it, but I know it. I know it in my heart. My name is Bane, Mr Bane.” It smiled, and Alec ignored the heat in his cheeks. 

“Can you remember, or feel, know… uh, your first name?” Alec felt absolutely foolish, but the soft smile his reflection gave him, made him feel a little better.

“It starts with an M. Or a W. I’m certain.” The reflection gave a curt nod, its eyes still far away, lost somewhere in forgotten memories.

“Um, is it William?” Alec suggested on a whim.

“No, God no.” The reflection shook its head almost aggressively. “Less English.”

“Less English?”

“Indeed.”

“Less English as in less aristocratic like Mike or Wade, or less English as in typically foreign?” The style of the mirror resembled the baroque style popular in Europe in the early 17th til the late 18th century. Maybe the name was French? Or German? But it could be from anywhere really. The Mirror was old, but the magic that brought it to life might be young, he didn’t know.

“I don’t know… It’s … longer than Mike.”

“Uh… Major?” Alec winced internally at his awkward tone. However, the Mirror did not seem to notice. 

“No, but… it’s closer. I think my name starts with the same sound, Ma..”

“Marc? No that’s too short. I'm really rubbish at this.” Alec rubbed his hand over his eyes, trying not to despise himself not too much, this was neither the time nor the place.

“You’re not Alexander. I’m closer to remember my name than I can ever remember being.” The voice of the mirror was soft, and Alec tried to not think about it being his own voice, tried to imagine someone else standing next to him, another voice telling him those words. He collected himself with some effort and turned his head back up to meet his own eyes. 

“You can’t actually properly remember anything from before we met.”

“Don’t undermine my argument, that’s rude. Especially when I’m trying to point out your worth.”

Alec huffed, amused. “Alright. Do you mind if I search for names on M, online?”

“Go for it.”

Alec tapped away on his phone, knowing his every move was being observed. He minded less than he’d thought. He looked up. “The first one is Maarav.”

“No, that’s not it, not at all.”

He scrolled past the rejected name, and past a few similar ones. “Ok, how about Macauley?”

“No.” The reflection frowned.

“Maddock?”

It shook its head. “Try something with a G.”

“Maguire?” Alec said, already feeling it was not right.

“Not quite.”

He sighed. “There’s Magnus, but then I have to scroll if I want to find-”

“That’s it!”

Alec’s eyes snapped up. “What? Magnus?”

“I’m Magnus.” The reflection smiled at him. Its eyes flashing yellow for the briefest of moments. 

“Magnus Bane?” Alec asked to be sure, but as he said it he knew it was right. It felt right, and if the pure joy of his reflection was anything to go by, it agreed. It nodded and smiled.

“The High… hmm, something… of Brooklyn.”

Alec felt his eyebrows climbing upwards. “You have a title?”

“I would seem so.”

“I don’t think mirrors are usually awarded titles,” he said as his eyebrows lowered into a frown.

The Mirror shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Mirror- sorry, Magnus; Do you think you could have been… alive?” he said as the horrible thought formed in his mind. The thought of there being a person on the other side of that glass, trapped.

“As a living person?” The thought seemed to startle Magnus, and he stayed silent for a while, before giving an almost unnoticeable nod.

“Yes?” Alec felt himself grow cold.

Magnus looked at him sadly. “It seems likely unless it’s common to name mirrors as well.” He shrugged.

“You are real,” Alec said, feeling a mixture of dread and sorrow, pity and maybe even… hope?

“I was always real, you know.” There was a small smile playing on his lips that was entirely Magnus’.

“Yes, but…” Alec closed his eyes and focused on breathing through his nose. “You’re really real. You were a person once.”

“A… man.”

Alec laughed humourlessly. “It makes more sense now, all of Raphael's bullshit talk. He wants me to save you, to free you somehow.” Alec said as everything clicked. This was what Raphael wanted him to do. Then another treacherous thought stole his focus. Magnus was a man. If he truly was a real person, that was. But still... 

“Did this Raphael possibly tell you how?”

“No.,” Alec said with a sigh.

“Maybe it is time for us to meet.” Magnus raised an eyebrow, a somehow familiar move.

“Maybe, but if you can’t remember him, there might be a reason why. He said he needed this done for his friend.”

“Do you think I am that friend?” Magnus inquired softly. 

Alec’s mind was racing, he shook his head to try to still his thoughts. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Do you think this man put me here?”

Alec frowned, but on that, he was fairly certain. “No… no, I don’t. But he was desperate when he first came to me. I think he wants something alright, but I don’t know what. Maybe caution is the best strategy,” he said as a feeling settled in his gut. He had to protect Magnus now. Even if it was against Raphael. He looked up into beautiful golden eyes. 

“If you believe so, I don’t know this man after all.”

 

___________________________

 

It was around 11am. Simon stood outside of the DuMort. By this point he didn’t even have an excuse anymore. He honest to god couldn’t make himself stay away. After Raphael’s intervention last time it had taken Simon eight days until the fear of Raphael somehow knowing what he was doing, to wear off enough for him to dare peak at his tracker. To his surprise, he hadn’t found Raphael in the DuMort or even in London. He’d found him in Glasgow. There he’d stayed for three days, his dot appearing all over the city, a few places outside the city but ultimately returning to the same building every day. On the fourth night, he’d started travelling down the length of Great Britain until he was back in London. By now Simon had almost managed to repress his memories of Raphael with his fangs bared and a biting fury in his eyes and had started to itch from his curiosity. He’d tried to fill his days with band practice, which Maureen and Eric really seemed to appreciate, but he still found himself checking his phone way too often. At the beginning of the third week since Raphael successfully scared him half to death, Simon broke. He’d never been good under pressure and his curiosity was driving him insane. Rebecka had already asked him twice if he’d gotten bitten by bedbugs considering how much time he spent scratching himself, and twisting in his chair and pacing restlessly. His mum had even gone so far to demand to see his back and only been satisfied once it’d been made clear beyond doubt that no there were no bedbugs, and it was all Simon being Simon. Clary, not very surprisingly, hadn’t noticed anything the few times she’d had time to see him. Which, yes, hurt. But he was trying to take Alec’s advise and give her some space. He’d never had to do that before, but there’s a first time for everything. Right? Right. Right…

Simon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Was he really about to do this? He looked up at the building covered with plastic signs, looked at the many machines placed all around him. He pulled a little on his flannel, nervously, before he looked back. And for a moment, really less than a second, he saw something else than scaffolds and plastic and warning signs. He saw something else. It was enough for him to make up his mind. It was less than an hour until the sun stood its highest on the ground. The vampires were bound to be asleep. Or hiding in coffins or something like that. It would be alright. He was only going to take a peak. Maybe venture in a few meters but that’s it. He wasn’t suicidal. He certainly didn’t have Clary’s courage or sense of adventure. He was just really curious. And if he saw a little bit of the inside then he could let it go and move on and stop being such a stalker. Right? Right. 

Simon ran his hand through his hair once. Twice. Pushed up his glasses. Pulled at the hem of his T-shirt. Pulled up his phone from his front pocket and checked the time. 11.23am. He got this. He took a shaky breath and carefully took the first step up to the door. One more. Another. He stood in front of the door. Carefully he felt it, and to his surprise it was open. He hadn’t actually imagined that he’d be able to just walk in. Like that. But on the other hand, why would vampires need to lock their door? He opened it just enough to let himself squeeze through. 

He’d assumed right when he thought it was some kind of back entrance. It led him down a dark corridor, passing rooms he assumed were some kind of storages or cleaning closets. He didn't know, and he didn’t dare to open them. At the end, there was a larger door, different from the others. He hesitated as he felt the cold metal handle under his fingers. With a quick tap of his thumb the light from his phone gave out and he was alone in the darkness. He opened the door.

 

 

Simon stood in the lit up elevator, avoiding to look himself in the mirror the elevator was lined with. He looked far too pale and nervous for his taste. It didn’t exactly help his confidence or wavering will to see how scared he’d look to anyone who might see him. The elevator climbed floor after floor. There had been a giant staircase in the room he’d stepped into, a room that looked suspiciously like a lobby. Two grand and flashy staircases leading upwards behind a lobby desk. Huge chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and several groups of couches arranged in small huddles. The desk had been empty but fully equipped with a computer and all other kinds of things they had in lobby desks. When he’d passed the couches he’d stopped in his tracks to feel the material because of course, they were golden. Golden! By assuming the structure to be similar to one in a hotel he'd walked to where the main exit should be and found one. Big and unmistakable, he'd wondered how it was hidden from the outside. Continuing his round he’d found the elevators, two of them. And§ here he was. Checking the time nervously (and quite a lot unnerved by the quiet of the building) he refrained from drumming his hands on his thighs. He didn’t know how far up he wanted to go, and eventually he stopped a few floors from the top. The first thing he noticed as he stepped out was the light. This floor was completely lit. He stopped to listen, but as he couldn’t hear anything he carefully ventured further onto the floor. When he continued beyond the open room the elevator opened to, with more of the golden couches and a bar, he found corridors with apartment doors on them. Or hotel room doors? Hard to define. They were numbered, but not as close as they should be if they were rooms and not apartments. He picked one of the corridors and started walking. Artful lamps on the walls led his way. The walls themselves were bare, simple concrete divided into squares. Every now and then a big ornate vase would show up in tiny alcoves, and a few old paintings lined the walls. Their obvious age and value stood in stark contrast to the bare walls more common in more “modern” buildings. The floors, however, were a black polished marble, with a long carpet stretching down the corridor, a dark red. It quieted his steps, which he was glad for, but a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that it would also muffle the steps of anyone approaching him. But he ignored that voice. He’d come too far to back down now, especially for something as uncertain as a premonition. At the same time, however, he wasn’t even sure why he was continuing now. What could he possibly gain by venturing this deep into a vampire lair? Which was obviously both very dangerous and rather stupid. So why was he continuing? It was one thing to explore the first floor that was unlit and obviously empty, it was another to walk around on a floor where he was most probably not alone. Even though it must be very late for them, that wouldn’t necessarily stop them, he knew it rarely stopped himself. Simon stopped momentarily to check his tracker. His and Raphael’s dots were very close, but then suddenly it blinked out of existence, and Simon was left in his confusion, staring at his screen. Then it appeared again, right next to his dot. The soft ruffle of fabric behind Simon was his only warning before Raphael grabbed him and shoved him harshly into the wall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Raphael hissed into his ear as he stood close, using the entirety of his lower arm to pin Simon to the wall. When he spoke his breath came out in small puffs and Simon couldn’t help but wonder if his breath always smelled like that, a little fruity, vaguely of alcohol and something else, something darker. 

When he didn’t answer, Raphael pulled away just enough to allow some space between Simon and the wall, and then pushed him right back, causing Simon’s shoulders to hit the wall rather painfully. His eyes were positively glowing and Simon knew this was not the time to lose his breath and feel his knees grow weak but he couldn’t help it as Raphael leaned into his space. Even though his voice was low and rough with barely restrained fury, it remained soft, and Simon finally admitted to himself why he’d returned to the hotel. 

“Do you want to die?” Raphael practically growled, and Simon would have cracked a werewolf joke if Raphael’s fangs not had been barred and hadn’t he’d been held so firmly he could barely move. Simon shook his head a little pathetically. The gravity of the situation was starting to dawn on him; if Raphael was awake, how many others were too?

As if fate had heard his thoughts, Raphael suddenly turned his head, clearly listening for something. When he turned back there was a glimpse almost resembling panic in his eyes as he let his arm fall from Simon’s chest and instead placed his hand on the wall right next to Simon’s head. Technically Simon could now escape Raphael's hold, but when his eyes flicked down to Raphael's suited chest, there were less than a foot between them, and something made him stay. Raphael turned his head back after having listened again, and the look of determination (and almost sorrow?) made Simon still. There was an intensity to his eyes, and just then Simon could hear talking voices coming towards them, fast. He felt fear spiking up through his body and instantly tried to sink further into the wall. Raphael looked at him grimly but stepped closer until their chests were almost touching, shielding Simon with his body. 

“I need you to trust me. I’m sorry.” And then faster than Simon could comprehend, Raphael had moved the hand not braced on the wall to Simon's neck, and with the flick of a nail, he’d created a small cut. But he barely had time to notice the sting of pain before Raphael closed the last inch between them, put his other hand on the wall, caging Simon under him, and moved his head to Simon’s neck. Simon could feel Raphael's lips against his neck, soft and a little wet, before feeling them drag up to where the cut was and carefully dragging them across. The small sting of pain brought Simon back enough to realise that the voices had stopped. Why had they stopped? His eyes fluttered open (wait, when had he closed them?), and he met the eyes of a woman standing with a group of three others behind Raphael in the corridor. They were openly staring, two of them sniffing in the air and a third with their mouth hanging open. Simon suddenly felt Raphael's lips leave his neck and Simon couldn’t help but sag a little when one of the hands next to him left the wall. Raphael turned slowly, and Simon got a glimpse of his lips, stained red from (as Simon realised with a jolt) his blood, and his hooded eyes. When he turned with a low growl it was as if everything slowed down. The eyes of the four vampires left him and landed on Raphael. One of them immediately turned to look at the floor, a gesture even Simon understood as submissive. The first woman looked shocked and a bit angry, the man next to her curious and the other dropped their gaze after only a few seconds of looking confused. Raphael moved his hand from the wall and put it on the middle of Simon’s chest, fingers spread in a claiming gesture. Simon couldn’t see Raphael's face anymore, but as he moved his head he could imagine how he flashed them his fangs, probably a morbid red. The man who’d looked curious immediately lowered his gaze, and Simon could see how all of them collectively took a step back. The woman looked at Raphael calculating before gesturing with her head for the others to keeps moving. 

“Let’s move.” Her voice rang cold and clear in the otherwise empty and silent corridor, and with that the four vampires sped off. 

Raphael kept absolutely still, listening for a full minute before he turned back to Simon, pulled him from the wall and with a hold of his neck practically shoved him into the same elevator as before, and pressed the button for the floor right before the top. Simon couldn’t help but notice that the button for the top floor required a key. As the elevator came to a stop Raphael wasted no time in dragging Simon with him down a path he was obviously familiar with and then through an apartment door. With the door closed Raphael let Simon go so fast he almost fell to the floor, and then walked away, rounding a corner and disappearing out of sight. Straightening out his clothes to give himself something to focus on Simon tried not to let his head spin. Tried to not think about almost getting caught by strange vampires and tried not think about what could have happened. Definitely tried to not think of Raphael's lips on his neck, his hand on his chest, his smell as they’d stood pressed together. 

Simon violently shook his head and tried to ignore how he felt hot all over, and instead busied himself with looking around. He was definitely in an apartment. Raphael's apartment, he thought awkwardly. The place looked like it belonged in a catalogue for interior design. It was pristine, not a thing out of place. Soft and dark colours played together in the open space. Simon walked down the step down to the lowered couch set and carefully sat down in one of the expensive couches. There was a smell of dried flowers in the air, as well as a mixed smell of new and old things. He let his eyes wander over the walls until they came to a stop over an odd empty piece of wall. It looked as if there’d been something there recently, something very large. Before he got to finish his thought chain Raphael rounded the corner, his mouth wiped free from blood and his lips firmly pressed together. He completely ignored Simon and walked over to a small table next to the other end of the L shaped couch Simon had sat down on. From a shelf under the table, he grabbed a crystal glass, placed it on the top and from another ornamented crystal bottle he filled the glass with a dark golden liquid, presumably a strong liquor, and downed it in one go. Simon watched with wide eyes as he filled the glass again. Just then the door to the apartment opened loudly and was quickly shut as the woman from before appeared looking absolutely scandalised and murderous. She flew past Simon in white flowy silk and hair a deep green. She stopped a few steps from Raphael with her back to Simon. With her hand on her hips, her back moved slowly as she took a deep breath.

“What have you done?”

Raphael threw a lazy look her way before filling his mouth with the liquid and letting it swish around in there before he swallowed with a grimace. Simon realised, a little hurt, that he was trying to wash away the taste of his blood. Completely emptying the glass Raphael put it down and filled it again, but more moderately this time. He moved to pass the woman and sat down on the couch, almost as far away from Simon as he could get. 

“A subjugate?! Are you insane? With all your preaching to maintain the law and then you go and get a subjugate?!” the woman snapped with a voice so hard Simon flinched.

Raphael, however, showed no sign to be affected. He sat with his arms on his knees and looked tiredly into his glass. He sighed. “He’s not my subjugate.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means…” Here Raphael started swirling the liquid in his glass by small elegant movements of his hands. He cast a glance Simon’s way before seeming to accept his situation and leaning back, as he had that time in Alec’s apartment so long ago, and crossing his legs before he looked up at the woman. “...that I have never bitten him. He’s not a subjugate.”

The woman sharply turned her head and narrowed her eyes when she saw the cut on Simon’s neck. In a flurry of movement, she stood before him with a wet towel in her hand. She gestured for him to take it, and moved back to Raphael the second his hands had gripped the material. He carefully put the warm, white (why white of all colours?!) towel to his neck. The warmth felt good and he yawned involuntarily. The woman looked at him disdainfully. 

“Then why the charade?” she said as she turned her head from Simon’s.

“What was I supposed to do? If I’d left him he would be dead now. And simply telling them to back off would have only made them suspicious, it could have jeopardised their confidence in me.” Raphael took a small sip from his glass. 

“But pretending to be feeding on him? How is that any better? The rumours are spreading as we speak!” 

Simon lifted a hand and got ready to speak, to ask exactly what they were talking about. But before he could they barreled on, and he sat there, ignored, and felt small.

“Don’t you think I know that!?” Raphael roared back, clearly losing his posture, his frustration visible in the way he’d dragged a hand through his hair, and now a single lock had escaped the previously perfectly combed-back hair.

“It’s illegal!” For a second Simon thought he could see sharp fangs between her lips.

“I know,” he bit out. “But-” he took a calm breath, “no one has ever cared to report Camille or any of the former leaders. I doubt anyone will dare challenge me and report me to the Clave.”

“Maybe not, but you don’t need to be reported by someone from the inside to get the Nephilim after you, word travels fast and wide.” The familiar word caught Simon’s attention and he thought about what Raphael had told him about the half-angels, the self-assigned justice system of the Downworld. The “Shadowhunters”. He wondered briefly what gravity Raphael's actions held in their world. To him, he hadn’t done anything wrong, he’d saved his life. True that it would have been nice if Raphael had asked before or filled Simon in on his plan, but drastic situations require drastic measures. Why were they talking as if Raphael had committed a felony? 

“It was that or to have the life of an innocent mundane on our hands. At least this spares the rest of them.”

“We could have taken care of him. We’ve done it before.” The insinuations in her matter of state voice had Simons pressing further into the couch. Chills went down his spine. 

Raphael downed his glass and went to get another one. Gesturing towards him without looking Raphael introduced them. 

“Lily, this is Simon Lewis: mundane, accountant student, suicidal idiot. Simon this beautiful woman is Lily Chen: after me the one with the highest status around here. Absolutely deadly.”

Simon grew cold as the woman turned to face him. For the first time he had the time to properly take in her features. Her eyes were even darker than Raphael's, completely black. Her cheekbones were high and her lips full, a light pink against her pale skin. Her thin eyebrows (also perfectly trimmed, what was this?) were pulled down and she looked at him distrustfully. She was undeniably beautiful, in a cold, unattainable way. She looked to be slightly older than Raphael, and her frame was small and thin. She held the same height as Raphael, which didn’t say much as Raphael himself was fairly short. In a dark, almost poisonous green her straight hair framed her face and fell a fair bit down her chest. 

“You know him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” Simon had to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from retorting something to hide the hurt he felt at Raphael's noncommittal words.

“Why?” She kept her cold eyes on him for a while longer, before turning back to where Raphael had sat down on the couch again.

Raphael kept silent, studying the content of his glass. Eventually, after a long silence, Simon couldn’t take it anymore.

“Um-” but then his mouth snapped shut as the woman, Lily something, pinned him with another freezing look.

“Are you sure this is how you want to play it?” she said keeping her eyes locked on him, but clearly not talking to him.

“It is the only way I can think of to protect the clan and the mundane.”

“What do you want me to do?” she said as she finally let him go and turned back to Raphael.

He looked to be contemplating something before raising his head to look into her eyes. “Would you make sure that the rumours take the right direction?”

“So they don’t go after him? Like they might if they thought you were simply feeding of him, a snack so good even the notorious Raphael Santiago would break his vows to never drink from humans?”

Raphael nodded.

“I can avoid a few questions, leave silent answers, meaningful silences, that kind. Feed the rumour without confirming anything.”

“Thank you.”

“Now what do we do about him? Do we make him forget?”

“No.” For the first time since they left the corridor, Raphael met his eyes. “No. He’s far too deep in this mess. Better that he remembers this and stays away.” The intention was clear in his eyes: Never come back.

“Shall I escort him out?”

“No… I’ll handle him. You can leave, get some rest.” Raphael stood, putting a hand on her arm, giving her a grim smile.

“Tomorrow, you will tell me everything.”

“I will. Thank you, Lily.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said as she turned and left.

 

_____________________

 

“Goodnight Magnus,” Alec called softly as he entered his bedroom, exhausted and ready to crawl into his admittedly too warm bed. There was a beat of silence, as Alec waited for the standard reply. But when none came, he frowned, feeling worry settle in his gut. He walked back out and down to the hall, his bare feet making small sounds against the floor. He pulled the light switch and blinked a few times to adjust before he stood before the Mirror.

“Are you alright?” But as he saw the look on the reflection’s face, he knew something was wrong. Magnus looked queasy. His pupils were blown, and he looked small, hunched in on himself. A look Alec was familiar with on himself but had never seen on Magnus.

“Why…” He said quietly, looking into Alec’s eyes, looking scared and confused. “Why did you call me Magnus?”

Alec felt the hairs on his arms stand up, there were chills running down his spine and dread pooling in his stomach. This couldn’t be happening. “Magnus… Is your name. Would you… like me to call you something else?”

“My name?” Magnus looked down, onto his bare hands. “No… I. No. My name is not Magnus. I can’t remember my name. I have… no name.”

“Can’t you remember? About two weeks ago, we were talking. I was eating breakfast. I had no shirt on,” he said hoping to spark a memory, even if it meant that Magnus would give him that predatory smirk that had him flushing from head to toe. But he only shook his head, looking pale and ready to throw up. His eyes were red and looking far too wet for Alec’s comfort. 

“Please. Magnus Bane. That’s your name! You told me, remember? You had a title, the High something of Brooklyn.”

“Noo… No, I’m nothing. I’m…” Magnus suddenly turned back, as if he’d heard something. “I can see the darkness. It wants me.” He looked back at Alec, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “I’m so cold.”

“No, no, no. Magnus, whatever you do, don't look back! I don’t know what you’re seeing, but don’t go there. Stay here, with me, Magnus. Stay here. Don’t think about it.” Alec stumbled forward, fear clawing at his chest as he saw Magnus starting to tremble. His hand hit the surface of the Mirror, right where Magnus chest would be. He frowned. That didn’t feel right. He slowly lifted his hand from the cold surface of the mirror and moved it. Under his fingers where there should be a two-inch long crack, was now a crack splitting in three directions. Smaller cracks connected the bigger ones, creating a spider-net of cracks right over Magnus’ heart, the size only slightly smaller than Alec's hand. Alec stumbled back, eyes wide and cold to his very core.

His reflection had never looked so much like him.

“Who is Magnus?”

 

_______________________

 

Simon shook his head, but couldn’t help but smile. Hotel of Death. Figures. Of course a bunch of narcissistic vampires would name their grand lair “The Hotel of Death”. Raphael had tried to assure him that it had another name originally, but Simon didn’t doubt for a moment that Raphael didn’t love the grim name. He chuckled to himself. The hotel was laid in darkness, and Simon walked by the light of his phone, but the digits on his screen told him it was a little past one in the afternoon. 

Simon smiled fondly. His life was absolutely insane. And he loved it. He kept walking towards the elevators. Raphael had taken him to some kind of common room on a floor about halfway up the building. Initially, he hadn’t been pleased to find Simon once again inside the Hotel, but instead of sending him away, he’d taken him on a tour. He’d looked tired, but as he spoke of the hotel, its layout and history, Simon had gotten the distinct feeling that Raphael didn’t mind his presence at all. They’d spent two hours like that. Simon had tried to keep quiet, but every word coming out of Raphael's mouth was more unbelievable than the previous. He couldn’t count on two hands the number of times Raphael had had to silence him when he’d gotten too excited. It had been insane. And kind of magical. He’d met Lily again too, and this time she’d even taken his hand! He’d had to bite his tongue to stop himself from squealing. 

Simon had just reached the elevators and was about to hit the button to go down when he heard something. It sounded a bit like something breaking?

Simon stepped back and strained his, sadly human, hearing. There. Again. Voices? Simon turned towards where he thought he’d heard it. And he kept walking. He didn’t have to walk far until he came back to the same common room where he’d left Raphael. He’d almost turned the corner when he heard a familiar voice. Clary.

Simon ran around the corner with his heart in his throat, and the sight had him freezing. Almost in the middle of the room stood Raphael, his hands extended from his body, palms open and his eyes locked with a man standing further back in the room. His blonde hair fell into a face that could have featured on the cover of a fashion magazine, but the expression on it spoke more of a soldier pointing a gun at an enemy. He was dressed in black clothes that looked vaguely military and held a faintly glowing sword out in front of him. His arms were bare, and what truly set off the alarm clocks in Simon's ears were the black tattoos covering them. He remembered Raphael telling him of the Nephilim's marks and how they granted them power. The man’s eyes quickly met his own before going back to Raphael.

“Simon?!” Clary shouted, seeming to be as shocked as him. She wore similar clothes as the man, a purple leather jacket topping it. But Simon could see the same marks peeking out from under the hem of her shirt, marking her down as the same as the man. A Nephilim. A half-angel. A Shadowhunter. And she could only be here for one thing. Simon’s eyes left her’s and came to rest on the tense set of Raphael's jaw. He didn’t look at him, but he moved his hand slightly in a “Go!” gesture. 

“You know him?” The strange man said in a gruff voice, sounding indifferent. 

“Yes, I… He’d my best friend. Mundane.” The man seemed to take that word falling from Clary’s lips like a sentence of guilt, for he moved immediately. The next thing Simon saw was light, several times stronger than the dim light from the lamps in the room. A hole had been blown into the wall and the light streamed in as the concrete still fell in small chunks to the floor. Simon was already moving when he heard the soul-shattering scream of Raphael as the light hit him. He fell to his knees, his arms held over his head as the light showered him and as his clothes caught fire and his skin smouldered. 

“Simon!” 

Simon ignored Clary as he fell by Raphael's side, using his body to try and shield him from the sun. Raphael grabbed a hold of Simon’s shirt with a burned and blackened hand and nodded once. Simon then quickly grabbed a hold of Raphael, and half supported him, half dragged him out of the sun. The second they were out, Raphael fell to the ground, letting out a choked scream as he arched his back in pain and then fell again to the ground, holding his smouldering hands out in front of him with horrified eyes. Tears were freely running down his face before he let his head fall down, whimpering in pain and clawing with his hands on the ground. Simon stood watching in silent horror as the man under him writhed and yelled as his limbs and clothes slowly stopped burning.

“Simon!” The shout of his name had barely registered when Simon felt Clary’s hand on his shoulder. The touch had him scrambling back, and he turned and stood so he was still shielding Raphael from the other two who clearly wanted to hurt him.

“Don’t come near!” he yelled, his voice wavering, and much higher than it normally was. Nothing made sense, he was so confused. He felt trapped between wanting to protect Raphael, and to be on the side of his best friend, where he'd always been.

“Simon. I need you to listen to me. You need to come here. I don’t know that he’s told you, but he’s not a good guy. He’s a monster, Simon. And he’s probably got you thinking you have to protect him, yeah? But it’s OK. Come here, Simon. I'm your best friend, remember? You’re safer if you come to me. We can protect you." she said in a calm voice, stretching her hands after him. The man next to her looked on coldly, and held his sword loosely, looking almost bored. 

“From who? From Raphael?!”

“He’s the subjugate Clary. He won’t listen to you, he’s gone. That is not your friend, not anymore, Clary.”

“Simon, please-” Clary said pleadingly, a hand on the man beside her.

“Subjugate? No, no you’ve got it all wrong!” Simon felt his mind spinning, but as a though formed his raised his voice. “Raphael hasn’t done anything to me! I’m not his mindless slave, he hasn’t bitten me once!” Maybe, if he kept them occupied long enough, some of the other vampires would wake up and hear what was going on. They could save Raphael.

“You… You know what he is?”

“Yes! I know because he told me! He’s been telling me everything, about werewolves, the Downworld, you: the Nephilim.” He saw Clary flinch, and a part of him enjoyed it. “Raphael never wanted me here”, he continued, strengthened, “He’s been trying to keep me from coming here, but I wanted to! I wanted to be here, I convinced him to let me stay! He’s been protecting me from the other vampires by spreading rumours that I’m his subjugate!”

“He’s lying Clary, he’s protecting the vampire.”

“Yes, asshole. Of course, I am. He’s my friend, and you just attempted to burn him alive!! Clary, you've met Raphael before. You know he's not evil!”

Suddenly the man took a hold of Clary’s arm and stopped. He bent his head slightly and then his eyes found Simon's, furious.

“He’s stalling. I can hear other vampires moving. We need to leave. If we’re here when they come we’ll start a war.”

“You’ll start a war either way," Simon said, feeling certain as he imagined the look on Lily's face if she ever found out what'd happened.

Clary met his eyes, and he knew she understood. She turned to the man. “It’s a war either way if they find his burned body.”

“If we can just get him out and into my van, I know where we can take him,” Simon said, desperately trying to catch Clary’s eyes, but she held them locked with the other man like they were having a silent conversation. After waiting anxiously for a few seconds Simon let out a sigh of relief as the man nodded with a frustrated huff, and put the sword back in his belt. He hurried over to Raphael, and with a quick move he had grabbed the now unconscious man under his arms and hoisted him up. Simon scrambled over and lifted Raphael's legs. And with that they were running, in through half hidden doors and into thin abandoned corridors. Clary running first. Lighting up the way with a glowing stone, turning left and right without a doubt. They came to a hidden away staircase, and with a firm move, the man had hoisted up Raphael's limp body over his shoulder and ran down the stairs closely behind Clary. Simon pulled himself from his shock, and almost fell in his haste to follow.

When they were finally down Simon were breathing heavily and his legs felt very much like spaghetti, like that one time he’d tried to run a charity marathon. Clary pulled open another door and suddenly they stood in the hotel lobby. Recognising the door he always used, Simon ran before them, gesturing for them to follow.

“My van is parked right outside here! Follow me!” And they did. Right before they came to the exit, Simon stopped and pulled off his flannel shirt. He stopped the man on his way out and carefully draped his shirt on top of Raphael’s head. With a nod, Clary opened the door and they hurried out into the light. Clary ran straight towards the familiar van as Simon struggled with the keys. The second he got them out of his pocket he threw them to Clary, who caught them and quickly opened the sliding door and ushered the man and a smoking Raphael in. She closed the door and ran to the other side to jump into the passenger's seat. Simon jumped in behind the wheel and started the car with a jump and had them driving away as fast as he could on the narrow street lined with machines he still wasn’t sure wasn’t real.

“Where are we going? We can’t bring him to your mum’s! And not to mine either, she doesn’t know about all of this yet!” Clary said sounding a little panicked.

Simon quickly looked her way. “You haven't told her!?”

“No! She left this life and if I told her I’ve gone back to it she would throw a fit!” Great. Jocelyn was also a half-angel with inhuman abilities and with a former career as a self-appointed, combat-trained law enforcer. 

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

“Please tell me you actually have a plan and we aren’t going to be driving around the entirety of London,” the man snarked from behind Simon, and in answer, he threw him an angry look in the rear mirror.

“I know a place.”

“Where?”

Simon kept his mouth shut as he sharply turned the car left onto another road. As they kept driving the realisation of where they were going seemed to dawn on Clary.

“Please tell me you’re not taking him where I think.” Her beautiful green eyes were wide and her hands were gripping her seat as he turned violently.

“He knows Raphael,” he muttered.

“He doesn't know he’s a vampire!”

“Yes, he does.” He cast her glance.

“What?!”

“He’s the reason I know. Raphael will be safe there.”

“Alec.” Clary looked at him dumbfounded. “Our Alec, works in a cafe, glowering at customers and studying on every break. That Alec?”

“You work in a café too. You study. I don’t see what makes you different.” he knew he sounded childish, but he didn't have time to explain all this to Clary. To be fair she was keeping a lot from him too, but he wasn't harassing her with questions, now was he? Besides, he was driving here. Clary didn’t get a chance to reply, because right then Simon harshly pulled to a stop in front of Alec’s apartment building. He jumped down and ran over to the door. He quickly dialled the number to Alec’s apartment in port and waited anxiously as the beeps went forward. He almost wet his pants in relief when Alec answered.

“Alec! I really need to talk to you, can you open?”

“Simon? What’s happening?” Alec's voice came through the speaking sounding tired. But he always sounded tired.

“We’ll talk about that when we get up, please?”

There was a beat of silence. “Ok, I’ll leave the door open then.”

“Thank you!” Simon said before he ended the call and hurriedly waved to the others as the door swung open to the building. The man jumped out of the van and sprinted until he was inside and safe in the shadows. Clary closed the van and came running after them. Before he could tell them that the elevator was broken they were sprinting up the stairs, Clary leading the way. Simon sighed and ran after, damning his weak physique. 

Simon pulled open the door as they finally came up the stairs, leading the way to Alec’s living room, and quickly moving the table in front of the sofa to make space for the man to lay Raphael down. He looked even worse now that he’d stopped smouldering. He heard Clary running to the windows and pulling down the curtains, but his eyes were trained on Raphael. He carefully laid his hand on a part of Raphael's arm that hadn’t burned.

A door opened, and Simon could hear the soft padding of someone walking barefoot. And then he could hear the strange man next to him turning, and pulling his sword.

The sound had Simon jumping up, only to find Alec in a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt, with a towel in his hand and his hair still dripping, staring at the other man. The other man, in turn, was staring at Alec with his sword ready and standing ready to throw himself over him at any given signal. 

The man growled, his eyes kept on Alec. “You?!”


	9. Not an ideal Saturday

The cracks slowly growing on the previously smooth surface of the Mirror unsettled Alec. Whenever he laid eyes on them he grew cold with anticipation and dread; if it continued like this Magnus might soon be lost to him. He wasn’t sure when that had happened, but Magnus had grown to be important to him, and he couldn’t lose him, at least not like that. The cracks couldn’t be natural, they grew unprovoked by worldly things as Magnus forgot. If the mirror truly was cursed then the cracks might be signalling some sort of imposing expiration date of the curse. If he couldn’t figure out a way to free Magnus soon, there might not be a Magnus to free. He really needed to have a talk with Raphael, alone. He’d kept silent for far too long, and whatever knowledge he bore it was long overdue for him to share.

Alec had been up all night thinking, scheming, plotting. There must be a way he could trick Raphael into telling him what he needed to know without letting on how much Magnus had come to mean to him. Without letting Raphael meet him. Maybe he should trust Raphael considering he had had the mirror originally, but something told him Raphael would react negatively if he told him of, well, anything really.

Alec didn’t have a lot of hours to sleep as it was, and when he laid awake for those precious few, it really took a toll on him. It was only the third night he’d laid awake, but he could already see the consequences. He was tired all the time, and hungry. Studying was out of the question since on his last two lunch breaks his vision had started swimming when he had attempted to concentrate or read. He completely avoided his reflection as he was turning translucent, the bags under his eyes starting to look like shiners. When Simon called, he had just stepped out of the shower, where he’d tried not to fall asleep standing. A towel around his waist and with his hair dripping he’d answered, and at Simon's panicked tone he’d perked up. He couldn’t refuse Simon for the simple reason that he was tired, so he let him in. Returning to the bathroom he threw on some clothes and tried to dry his hair as fast as he could, but abandoned that when he heard the door open and then equally forcefully slam shut. With his brow furrowed and his towel still in hand, he padded out into the living room, expecting to see Simon pulling his hair over something Clary related. He had not expected to find Simon with Clary there, together with that guy Jace, and with some other guy lying unconscious on his couch. He barely had a second to take it all in before Jace had turned and was holding a glowing sword out in Alec’s direction. He looked murderous, his jaw clenched and his eyes not leaving Alec’s own. There was soot on his face and his blonde hair had once again fallen down so it obscured parts of his face. Alec hated how even now he looked collected and powerful ~~and absolutely stunning~~.

“You?!” the man growled, and Alec took an instinctive step back. He feared this man, as he probably should consider that he was armed, and as all Nephilim supposedly both stronger and faster than any normal human. He needed time, time to think, time to plan. He was not ready to face off with his guy, even if only verbally. And so, he reverted to his first base of defence: feigning ignorance.

“Do I know you?” he asked, holding his hands up defensively. Letting his eyes roam over the room he quickly swept past Clary, noting her tattoos and how she was dressed similarly to Jace. Alec had assumed that she had joined their league, but seeing her like this confirmed his suspicions, she too was a half-angel. Then his eyes moved to Simon, looking worse for wear, his clothes stained with soot and on some places looking a bit like they might even have smouldered at one point, his glasses were askew and his hair an absolute mess, but worst was the expression of absolute helplessness on his face. It led Alec to the form on the couch behind him. He cast an eye on Jace and lifted his hands even further, and slowly took a step forward. The man didn’t move, and Alec took that as a sign to continue and carefully walked past him, over to Simon. Simon turned towards the couch with him, and as Alec got a better glimpse of the body he instantly grabbed a hold of Simon’s shoulder. He had to bite back bile as he realised that the charred and blackened body was Raphael’s. Blood had dried in some places and on others, he could see exposed flesh. Carefully he sank to his knees in front of him and forced any other thoughts away as he tried to asses the damage. When Raphael's chest suddenly rose in a sharp intake of breath, he almost jumped out of his skin. He stood and backed a few steps, trying not to breathe through his nose as the strong smell of burned flesh was overwhelming.

“What happened?” he stuttered out, not needing to fake the emotion in his voice.

“He happened,” Simon bit out angrily and pointed at Jace. Simon didn’t have the capacity to look threatening, but at that moment he looked truly enraged. That too shook Alec.

“What, I-” Alec stopped midsentence and shook his head, it didn’t matter now. “He needs help,” he said instead, “A lot of it. I’m not an expert on vampire healing, I don’t even know if he’s going to survive that.” He chanced another glance at the lifeless form and immediately regretted it as bile once again rose up in his throat.

“If we take him to his clan they’ll start a war,” Clary said in a small voice, looking uncertain and nowhere near as frightening as her partner.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have gone after him in the first place!” Simon made to step towards Clary, hands clenched and eyes on fire, but Alec put out a hand and stopped him. More for his sake than Clary’s; he suspected she could defend herself. He took the opportunity to speak himself:

“He’s going to need blood, I'm going to assume a lot. And bleeding us is probably not a good idea.”

This made Clary turn her hurt eyes from Simon to Alec, her face morphing into something more suspicious and hostile. “How do you know about this anyway?”

“Does it really matter now?” He sighed inwardly, and thankfully Clary did eventually turn away her eyes.

“I can go back to the hotel, ask Lily. She might help,” Simon offered.

“Who’s Lily?” Clary asked her best friend, who by now had calmed down some.

Simon shrugged and avoided looking at Clary. “Raphael's friend, I’ve met her twice.”

From the corner of his eye, Alec could see Jace moving. “And you think she’s just going to give you blood like that? She’d sooner drain you herself.”

Simon twitched. “She’ll help me. If I tell her it’s for Raphael she’ll help”

Clary shook her head. “She’ll tell the others, and we will be back to the war situation.”

“She won't, because I won't tell her.”

“Yeah, that’s likely to work,” Jace snarked.

Alec threw up his hands and effectively stopped any retorts. “I don’t know about you, but I want Raphael to stay alive.”

“He’s a vampire, he’s already dead.”

Alec ignored Jace and continued, albeit slightly louder. “And since you brought him here I assume you want him to live as well.”

Jace shrugged, looking bored. “We can always stake him. Then there won’t be a body.”

“He's innocent of whatever crimes you are accusing him of!” Simon shouted. Alec had to put a hand on him to stop him from charging up to Jace and poking him or something equally foolish, (even though a part of him would very much like to know what Raphael was accused of.) “You can’t just kill him when you don’t even know of his guilt! And even if you did you can't just go around killing people! You have to go through a trial and then imprisonment or…”

“Simon,” Clary interrupted, “it doesn’t work like that in the Downworld.” Her voice was soft and understanding, in a way that even Alec understood would only rile Simon up further.

“Well, it should! Everyone deserves a fair trial! He’s not a monster, he’s shown more humanity and goodness then him,” Simon pointed a Jace, “and he’s supposedly of divine blood!”

Jace smirked like a cat, vicious and deadly. “I can take you down with my pinkie, mundane.”

Alec sighed. He took a breath and then shouted for them to stop. When he had their attention he continued, in a lower tone. “If you want him alive, help me. I can’t just stand by and let you kill him, which means you’ll have to go against a mundane to get to him. Is that really what you want?”

“Jace, we can’t hurt them,” Clary pleaded, standing close to the other man, her hands on his arms.

He looked at her for a long while before turning away muttering, eventually letting out a low: “Fine.”

“Thank god,” Alec muttered in relief and then turned to Simon. “Is there another way to get blood?”

But Simon only shook his head and shrugged, casting a questioning glance at Clary. After a while, she too shrugged, and Jace refused to look at him at all.

Alec turned back to Simon, motioning for him to move as he spoke. “Simon go.” Simon only looked at him for a moment before moving towards the exit.

“You can’t go alone!” Clary grabbed a hold of Simon as he passed her, turning her pleading eyes on him, and Alec could see how torn he was.

“You can’t come with.” He stood and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt before looking up at Clary. “It’s our only shot.”

“I don’t like it,” she said, her voice wavering suspiciously.

“You don’t have to like it, Clary, but I can’t just let him die.” He carefully removed her hand and looked at her sadly before turning around the corner. They all stayed silent until they heard the door close after him.

“If I leave you for a few minutes, will you attempt to kill him?” Alec waved in Raphael’s direction, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

“No. We won’t. Jace?” Clary nodded and turned to her partner. But when he stayed quiet her brow furrowed. “Jace?” She elbowed him, but he only grunted and refused to answer. Alec could pinpoint the moment Clary lost her patience, her face stiffening in anger. “Jace, come on!”

“Alright, we won’t!”

Alec stayed long enough to see Jace nod and then quickly backed away into the kitchen. This was bad, so very bad, he thought to himself. He pulled out his med-kit, not bothering to sort anything out, simply taking the whole thing. Knowing that would not be enough he grabbed three clean towels and soaked them in water, and turned the corner back into the living room.

Too late he noticed the shimmering glamour resting over Jace, and before he could stop himself he had met his eyes. Seeing the same peculiar shade of gold he stopped in his tracks. It was already too late, Jace charged forward, pinning Alec to the wall easily even as he still held onto the dripping towels and the med-kit. With the glowing sword held only an inch or so from his throat, Alec made sure to stay very still.

”You’re good, I’ll give you that. I fell for your little charade at the bakery, I really did. So why I wonder? Why so desperate to stay hidden? Huh? What are you? Answer me.” Jace pressed Alec further into the wall, hard enough to stop him from taking deep breaths.

“Jace back off! What are you doing?!”

Jace jerked at her voice, but his face only hardened. “He saw through the glamour, Clary. He’s been seeing us all along! That first night and behind the bakery. I even went to meet him alone, to see if he’d see me like you did. He pretended then too, but he can see through glamours. This proved it.”

“I don’t care! Jace, he’s my friend!”

“Is he? Is he really?” Jace didn’t even look her way, his eyes seemingly burning their way into Alec’s soul.

“Jace let him go! What are you going to do, he’s done nothing!” Clary half-shouted, her hand sneaking its way around Jace’s arm.

“He’s a risk!” Jace bit out, not even noticing how Clary held him. “We need to know what he is and what he wants!”

“I’m human.”

Jace showed his teeth in a terrifying grimace, before lifting his hold and then shoving Alec back again, hard enough for him to hit his head against the wall. “Like hell you are!”

Alec closed his eyes and ignored the pain. “I've seen through glamours since my early teenage years, maybe even earlier. I didn’t know what it meant, seeing things no one else could. Raphael is the one who told me about your entire world, I only knew bits and pieces before that,” he said opening his eyes, finding both Jace’s golden ones and Clary’s green watching him.

“And why should I trust you?” Jace said tilting his head.

“You won’t, it doesn’t matter what I say. And I won’t trust you. But I'd like to save my friend…” Alec trailed off, realising for the first time that he did indeed see Raphael as his friend. Their initial interaction had been hostile, to say the least, but somewhere along with Raphael invading his home and sharing parts of his past that Alec assumed very few knew, he had stopped thinking of him as the enemy. True that he didn’t trust him with the Mirror, but he still cared about the snobby vampire.

“Jace, let him go. This is not the time.” Clary pulled at Jace’s arm and eventually, he gave away and stepped back, allowing Alec to properly breathe again. He put away the sword without looking at Alec, but Clary still held his eyes. She might have gotten Jace to back down, for now, but this certainly wasn’t over.

Alec ignored her after having caught his breath and scurried over to Raphael. He fell to his knees next to the sofa and set down the medkit on the floor. when he leaned forward he could hear a charred, ragged breathing. Alec tried not to look at Raphael’s face as he took a pair of scissors and started cutting away Rapahel’s burned and slightly fuming suit. As he tried to remove it, parts were completely stuck to his skin, and so he had to cut around those sports to remove most of the fabric. He took a steadying breath, breathing through his mouth to avoid the burnt smell. Alec was used to seeing nasty things, but draping the wet towels over the vampire's body was a test of restraint, and he thanked whatever god for his ability to compartmentalise. He could hear Clary whimpering behind him as she saw Raphael's skin lifting from his body, melted together with the fabric Alec was trying to remove. It didn't take long for Alec to hear his apartment door opening, as Clary rushed out. But Jace remained, standing in a military position by the entrance to the living room, keeping his eyes on Alec, but able to turn and see the hallway if he pleased.

Alec kept working, cleaning away the soot and piece by piece removing every single section of fabric. Thankfully he managed to do so without too much skin following. But the truth remained, revealed by Raphael’s now uncovered chest and arms; He was in a terrible shape. The damages were worst on Raphael's face and his arms, but the burns continued down his neck and on his chest, as well as on his lower arms. Below his abdomen, however, he seemed to be mostly fine. Alec had examined the suit first, but as he hadn’t really found too much damage he had waited to examine his legs. When he had, by cutting them partly open, the skin had been red and blistered, but unlike his topper half, it had never actually started burning. Sighing, Alec finally turned to Raphael's head. It was by far the worst. One of his eyes were still visible, the charred eyelid twitching every now and then, but his eyebrows and lashes were gone, eaten away by flames. The other eye was hidden in a mass of exposed flesh, still sluggishly bleeding, and on the same side, the skin had been charred away enough to leave his inner teeth and even his skull visible on some places. He shouldn’t even be alive, but as Jace had said, in a way he wasn’t. Alec took even more care in cleaning Raphael's face and skull, as the damage continued up. His hair only remained on the side of his head that had been turned away from whatever had burned him. But Alec eventually had to stop. He wasn't sure how much more he could do before he started hurting Raphael instead of helping him. Tired to his very bones and carrying an unfamiliar sorrow, he stood and backed away. He continued all the way until his back hit the wall, and he slid down, his hands resting on his knees and his head on the wall. He pointedly didn’t look at his hands covered in red and black. For a while, he simply stared forward without seeing anything. But then the movement of Jace caught his eyes. He turned to look at him.

“What did that to him?” he asked eventually.

Jace squirmed a little and had the decency to at least not look happy about the situation. “The sun.”

Alec took a moment to process that, remembering what Simon had said when he’d first seen Raphael. “Was Simon right? Is that… you doing?”

Jace absentmindedly scratched his neck. “Yes. I suppose.”

Alec looked at him, then turned his eyes to the body on his couch. He turned back to Jace who was also watching Raphael. “Why?”

Jace shrugged. “Word had travelled about the awful crimes he’d committed. We went to stop him.”

Alec huffed. “Well, consider him stopped.”

Jace turned his peculiar eyes on him, but he didn’t look arrogant like before. He looked… subdued, and almost curious. “I’ve never seen a vampire survive the sun. They always burn.”

Alec furrowed his brow. “Then how did he-”

“The mundane saved him, covered him with his body.”

Alec let out a weak chuckle that quickly died. Before he had the time to say anything more Clary returned with Simon in her trail, carrying an open backpack in his arms, the blood bags almost falling out.

“I didn’t know how much you needed so took all that I could carry. How is he?”

“Not good.” Alec heaved himself up from the floor and grabbed two of them. He noticed they were of different kinds. “Does the blood group in any way affect-”

“No,” Jace said interrupting him. He nodded to Alec solemnly and seemed to have accepted the situation.

“So you’re helping now, are you? You’re not gonna threaten us with your sword? That getting a bit boring in the long run, is that it?” Simon asked. He locked a bit better, some of the soot wiped from his face, but his clenched fists showed he was still angry.

Alec ignored them as he moved over to the vampire’s still body. He kneeled down and carefully removed the clasp on the small plastic tube attached to the blood bag in his hands. Edging his mouth open, he managed to slip the tube inside Raphael’s lips, and with a small press, the blood from the bag dripped into the vampire’s mouth. At first, nothing happened, and Alec started worrying that the blood would simply run right out through the holes in his mouth. But before he finished that thought, Raphael let out a loud sigh through his nose; His eye flickered but didn’t open, and suddenly Alec could see him swallowing. He swallowed again and again, and then his lips formed around the tube and he started drinking on his own. A few drops did escape where his teeth were visible, but Alec caught them quickly with one of the towels. The relief hit him as a physical punch, and his surroundings suddenly came into focus again, and he realised a little surprised that behind him they were arguing.

“Simon not now,” Clary said pleadingly, sounding tired and a little bit desperate.

“Not now? Or not ever? Planned on telling me you joined a vigilante gang? Telling me that you are of a different species? Or were you just gonna hope that I didn’t notice? Becuase I didn’t. It’s hard to, considering you’ve been ignoring me for weeks, months.”

“Simon, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’ll tell you everything, I promise!”

“You don’t have to tell him anything.” Jace interrupted, looking down at Simon. “As a matter of fact, you shouldn’t. You are a shadowhunter now; He can’t possibly understand our life, nor has he the right to know.”

“Jace, please, not now. Simon is my best friend, after my mother, he means the most to me.”

“Yeah right,” Simon muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

“It’s true, Simon. I love you, and I don’t know what happened to make it this way but I swear, I’ll fix it and I-”

“Quiet.” Alec let his voice pierce their meaningless squabble.

“But-”

Alec held up his hand and Simon quieted. “I’m exhausted. I have to leave for work in an hour. Someone needs to watch Raphael, and I don’t trust either of you to do it.” Alec cast a pointed look at Clary and Jace.

“I’ll do it,” Simon said, looking solemn. “I’ll make up some excuse to tell Mum and I’ll stay for as long as you need me to.”

“That’s gonna be a while, my shift isn’t over until early morning.”

“That’s OK.” Simon shrugged. Alec wanted to argue, but he knew Simon would be fine, it wasn’t the first time he’d been alone in Alec’s apartment. And Raphael would be the safest, oddly enough, in Simon’s fumbling hands.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Good.” He turned to look at the two half-angels. They didn’t look very angelic. “And you need to leave. I can allow Clary to stay here with Simon when I’m gone, but you’re out of the question. I wouldn’t have let you into my home to begin with,” Alec said looking pointedly at Jace.

“If Clary’s staying then I’m staying.” Jace crossed his arms.

“Then Clary can’t stay.”

“Simon-”, Clary tried to say but got interrupted.

”It's simple math.” Simon shrugged as if saying it was out of his hands.

Alec looked down at Raphael. His skin was visibly, albeit slowly, regrowing; spreading over exposed flesh like frost. But at this pace, it would take hours at the very least. Alec removed the empty bag and placed a new one in Raphael’s hands, which were starting to grasp it. He stood up, and Simon immediately took his place, looking down at the vampire with the biggest puppy eyes Alec had ever seen. Jesus.

Alec turned to Jace. “You need to leave, now.”

“And trust a mundane and whatever you are with the thing that’ll determine whether we face a war or not?”

“I don’t think you have much of a choice since you are the reason there might be a war in the first place. And that thing has a name.”

”I can’t leave Simon,” Clary interjected, looking distraught.

”Yes, you can,” Simon said quietly from his place by the couch. “Go. Please.”

Alec saw as Clary’s eyes filled with tears but he had a hard time feeling any sympathy as his own hands were stiff with dried blood and his exhaustion made his legs weigh a ton each. He herded the two half-angels back until he finally made them step over his threshold. He had never closed his door quicker. He leaned on it for a while, closing his eyes and simply breathing, and when he opened them, he met Magnus’ reassuring smile, and maybe, just maybe, he could actually do this.


	10. "You owe me a suit."

“Hey there.”

Alec slowed down until he stopped. A part of him did not want to turn around and face the familiar voice. He just knew shit was about to hit the fan. But it wasn’t like he could just walk away and be left alone, that never actually worked. So he turned around and let out a weary: “Hi.”

The same woman he’d seen together with Jace and Clary stood a few paces before him, her red lips curled up in a self-assured grin. Her hair caught the light of the streetlamps, creating streaks of gold in her otherwise jet-black hair, as her heels clicked against the pavement when she slowly walked towards him. “It feels good to be right,” she said, mirth clearly visible in her eyes. “I knew you could see me that night.”

There was no mistaking which night she spoke of, Alec had no issues recalling the woman in the white wig whose eyes he’d met briefly. “Yeah, well,” Alec shrugged, “Good for you.”

She took the last few steps until she stood before him. Even with her heels, she had to look up to meet his eyes. It didn’t seem to bother her at all. “I’m Isabelle, Izzy for short.” She stretched out her hand, smiling coyly.

“Great.” He made no move to take her hand. Maybe he’d get lucky and she would go away if he bored her.

“Aww, now come on. I just wanna get to know you.” She pouted and tilted her head. For some reason, he kept thinking of a snake ready to strike their prey. 

He turned and kept walking towards his bus stop. “It’s not mutual.”

“I’m not like Jace, I wanna talk.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes.

“What’s the worst thing that can happen? Humour me,” she said, stepping into his path and successfully stopping him. 

Alec could feel his eye twitch. “Oh I don’t know,” he said, letting some of his bottled up spite seep into his voice. “You decide that I’m a threat. I die, or you hurt me, or you in some other way ruin my life.”

She rolled her eyes right back at him. “That’s dramatic, but sure. Say that’s the worst that can happen. What’s the best?” She let one of her jewelled hands settle on her waist.

“There is no best.”

“It’s Alec right?” She asked and let her hand fly up and settle on his arm. “I can tell you more, show you more. There has to be something you want. Allow us to be curious, you’re a new player. We need to know if you’re a threat to us, or an asset.” 

He looked at her for a while. A part of him wanted her to keep talking, wanted to keep her hand on his arm. There was something… Almost soothing about her presence. Instead, he shook off her hand and stepped around her. “I’m no threat. I’m no ally either. I just wanna be left alone.”

“By us?” She questioned as she jogged next to him to keep up. “Or by the Downworld? From what I’ve heard you’re too late on that one.”

Alec stopped. “I’m beat,” he said, pleading silently for her to just leave him alone. “I wanna go home, sleep, forget that there’s an unconscious half-burned vampire on my couch.”

Izzy huffed, unfazed. “Please. By now he’s a bit smoked at most.”

“My point stands.”

She seemed to fold a bit at that. “I play nicer than Jace, forgive my brother.”

Alec felt his eyebrows climb. “He’s your brother?” He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “My condolences.”

“True he’s not exactly subtle, or diplomatic. But he’s a good brother,” she insisted, and Alec couldn’t help but believe her.

“You’re lucky then,” he muttered.

Izzy walked up to him again. This time her smile felt genuine. “I’m Isabelle,” she said, and once again stretched out her hand. He hesitated only a second before grasping it.

“Alec.”

She smiled. “Now, was that so hard?”

He huffed in answer and resumed his walk, and felt the corner of his mouth twitch up as he heard her heels click as she came up beside him.

“Please,” she said and grabbed a hold of his sleeve. Alec turned to look at her but kept walking. She didn’t stop either but looked intently into his eyes. ”It’ll be easier if you cooperate. If you’re a mundane, and harmless, you’ll never see us again. But we need to know. If you’re a threat, the people we are sworn to protect can get hurt. Please let me do my job,” she pleaded.

Alec felt himself sag. He sighed in defeat. “What do you need?”

She smiled thankfully, and her hand snaked its way around his arm. “What are you?” she asked, her eyes on the road before them.

“Human. I think.” He shrugged. By this point, he didn’t really know anything for sure.

“You don’t know?”

“I grew up human. The only thing that makes me any different, is that your glamours for some reason don’t work on me.”

“So you’re no downworlder?” She tilted her head and seemed to be thinking it over.

“I think I would know,” he deadpanned.

“We though Clary was a mundane with the Sight first until we found out the hard way that she was one of us. Two of you, in the same city, working in the building. That’s one hell of a coincidence.” Alec could feel where she was going, but he refused to humour her. That was not a road he was ready to head down.

“Not my problem.”

She seemed to sense his reluctance and changed tracks. “Jace said you only recently found out about our world.”

Alec could see his stop, but something kept him walking, and he steered her past it, aiming for the next one. “Raphael told me. I wasn’t unaware of your world, I just didn’t have any names for the things that I saw. Now I do. Unfortunately.”

“But it must be better to know, right?”

Alec thought about it. “Somedays maybe,” he agreed. “Do you think you guys could leave me alone now?” He asked not unkindly, but feeling endlessly tired.

Izzy let go of his arm and took a step back. “I’ll see what can be done.”

“Izzy!” They were interrupted by a shout. It didn’t take long for Alec to spot Jace as he was jogging up to them. “Finally. The head of the Institute wants us to rapport to her, immediately.”

The news seemed to surprise Izzy, and she turned fully towards her… brother? “Mum? She’s back?” Alec thought he could detect a stiffness in her posture that hadn't been there before. 

“Yeah,” Jace affirmed. Then first he seemed to notice that Izzy wasn’t alone. “Hey, what’s he doing here?”

“I came to talk to him.”

Jace huffed, looking annoyed. “Yeah, you were right. So what? Doesn’t mean you need to talk to him.”

Izzy patted Jace on his shoulder and smiled patronizingly. “Of course it does.” She turned back around to Alec, looking nothing but sincere. “I’m sorry, I need to go. See you around, Alec.” 

“Yeees, come on.” Jace turned and took about two steps before he abruptly stopped. “Wait.” Frowning Alec watched as he turned back, an unreadable look on his face. “Stop for a second.”

Izzy’s raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Jace gestured to the two of them. “That. Is uncanny.”

Alec cast a glance at Izzy, but she seemed just as confused. “What are you talking about?” he asked the blonde man.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Jace rolled his eyes.

“Jace, really, what are you talking about?” Izzy asked.

“That.” Jace let his hand hover in front of both their heads, in turn, pointing at their faces. “You can’t be serious, you must have noticed!” he said distrustfully.

“Noticed what?” Alec asked, again, feeling his patience wearing thin. 

“The similarity!”

“What are you talking about!?” Izzy raised her hands in the air as if to ask the gods why her brother was so stupid.

Jace shook his disbelievingly and simply looked at them for a while. “You look like you could be brother and sister,” he said at long last.

Izzy shrugged, looking annoyed. “Yeah, we both have black hair, so what?”

“Izzy. Look at him. Just look at him.” The voice of which he said it was enough to have both Alec and Izzy forget their irritation. There was something so… hesitant, and almost sorrowful, in his tone.

Izzy turned to Alec and looked at him for a long while. Her eyes first travelled up and down searching for whatever similarity Jace had spotted. Eventually she found her way back to his face, and as she studied him, he could see how she suddenly started blinking very rapidly and her lips parted with a small gasp.

“What is going on?” Alec looked t0 Jace, and to Izzy, but they barely seemed to take notice of him.

“By the angel…” Izzy whispered.

“I know, right?”

“That’s… incredible.” Izzy turned to look at Jace, her hand going to her forehead, the expression on her face strongly resembling stunned amazement and shock. 

“Wanna clue me in?” Alec asked, his voice hard, but his hands were sweating and a nervousness was creeping up on him. Warning bells chimed in his mind, but he couldn’t figure out why.

Finally Izzy turned back to him, her movements almost erratic, her eyes desperate. “Alec… How old are you?”

Alec took a step back, wary. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Humour me,” she said impatiently.

Alec could hear his pulse loudly in his ears, but something in him was working hard to ignore the chiming warning bells, and he found himself answering her. “22.”

The reaction was instantaneous. “No. Izzy no.” Jace stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, but she shook them off and shushed him. Her eyes burned in the weak light.

“Is there any chance you’re adopted?”

Alec blinked. “What?”

“It’s important, please.”

Jace once again put his hand on Izzy’s shoulder, but she barely seemed to notice. “Izzy stop, you’re wrong.”

Alec watched them, chills going down his back, an irrational fear mixing with confusion and an odd sense of longing. “No...”

“Are you sure? Absolutely sure?” There was a tremble in Izzy's voice, and Jace shook his head and stepped away, letting his hand fall from her shoulder and visibly giving up on his sister.

“Yes! I’m not adopted. Never were. It was foster homes ‘til I was 18.”

Izzy tilted her head. “Foster homes? What about your parents?”

Alec felt his brows draw together. The familiar touch of anger overpowering his other raging emotions. “You’re crossing a line here,” he warned.

“One more, I have one more,” she pleaded, and something in her eyes smothered his anger like you would have snuffed a candle flame between our fingers.

“Give it up,” Jace muttered, a few steps away, half turned away.

Izzy ignored him. “Alec, is that short for Alexander?”

Alec looked into her eyes, trying to discern what she was looking for. He couldn’t find it, but he never had been a very good people-reader after all. But he thought he could see sincerity. It was enough for him to answer quietly. “Yeah.”

Izzy immediately turned to Jace, her body language indicating excitement. “Jace, what if?”

“No.”

“But what if?”

Jace frowned angrily. “What if? Really, what if? Fine, let’s find out.” Jace suddenly stepped up to Alec and grabbed a hold of his arm, tightly. Harsh enough for Alec to know there would be no pulling away. Jace pulled out one of his daggers, dimly glowing in the night. Alec had enough time to feel his heart jump up in his throat as Jace pulled it towards him, but then instead, it was shoved in his hand, and his fingers were forced closed around it. The light continued to glow as Jace stepped back, looking unnerved. 

“Jace! How could you?!” Izzy shouted, her shrill voice sending chills down the back of Alec's neck.

“Izzy, look. The blade recognises him…” Jace gestured to the dagger glowing in Alec’s grip.

Alec looked at the dagger, and then to Jace and lastly to Izzy. “What does that mean?”

“The blade shall never dim when it’s held by one who’s blood it recognises… Alec, a seraph blade only shines when it’s held by a Shadowhunter. Someone with angel blood,” Izzy said in a hushed voice.

“I’m human.”

“It wouldn’t glow if you were,” Jace countered.

“Then there’s something wrong with it. I’m not a half-angel. I’m just a fucked up human.”

“Alec, don’t you realise what this means?!”

“It means you’re gonna try to take my life from me. And I’m not just gonna stand around to watch you. No, no whatever you think this means, you’re wrong.” Alec pressed the blade back into Jace’s hand and pulled back as soon as the blade was gripped.

“The blade never lies,” Jace said, looking sombre.

Alec forced a shrug. “Yeah, and monsters aren’t real.”

“Alec, please listen to us! This is a good thing.”

“How?” Alec turned wildly to Izzy. “How is this good? Hmm? How does this help me?”

“It means, Alec, that you might have a family out there, alive. And we can find them for you.”

__________________

 

 

The bell chimed clearly as he stepped into the bakery. He couldn't help but throw glances behind him, making sure there was no sign of bright orange hair. The sound of the bell and the opening of the door had attracted Alec’s attention. He stood behind the cashier, as he almost always did whenever he was working. Simon waved weakly, and Alec gave him a nod as he finished giving back his customer her change. When she left, Simon wasted no time and walked straight up after her.

“Hi.”

“Simon.” Alec looked at him somberly. Or well. On anyone else it would have been somberly. On Alec it might as well be a cheery greeting, there was no telling. Alec rolled his eyes as he caught Simon looked at him contemplatively. “You can’t stand in front of the cashier if you won’t order anything, Simon.”

“Right, right. Sorry. I’ll have the caramel ice-latte, thanks.”

Alec nodded and started fixing Simon’s order. He was alone in serving the customers. It was after the morning rush, and before the lunch rush, and there were almost no people sitting around the café. Not that Simon minded. He let his fingers drum against his thigh as he waited for Alec to finish.

“Raphael hasn’t called has he?” he asked, trying to feign vague interest, instead of conveying how he had been dying to ask from the second he stepped into the shop and how he was very much invested and needed to know, like he needed-

“No,” Alec said brusquely, putting the cup down in front of Simon. “I assumed you wanted to stay.”

“Yeah…” Simon shook his head, trying to shake the mental whiplash Alec always seemed to give him. “Do you think he’s alright?” he asked, carefully.

“Raphael? No. But I think he will be.” Alec looked as stoic as ever, but his blue eyes were soft, and Simon knew he was trying to be comforting. He appreciated the sentiment.

“I don’t get it. They burned him to an inch of his life, and … They didn’t care. They cared about the possibility of getting caught, they cared about the possible retaliation of Raphael's clan, about a possible war. But they didn’t care that he … You didn’t hear him scream,” he finished quietly. The memory had haunted him every night since.

“No. And I’m very thankful for that.”

“That sound…” Simon shook his head sadly and closed his eyes, trying to keep the memory at bay.

“Simon, listen I-”

Suddenly the doors to the back, to the bakery, opened. The red hair was unmistakable, even before she looked his way, and Simon felt his heart clench painfully.

“Simon?” She spoke his name the second she caught sight of him, his name falling from her lips instantaneous, almost as if without her permission. Once he would have loved that, how easily she called for him, but now it only tore his heart further to shreds.

“Hiii….” he said awkwardly, avoiding her big, beautiful, green eyes.

“What’s up? I’m finishing up now. If you just wait a minute, I’ll be right with you,” she offered, gesturing to the doors of the Café.

“Actually… I’m here for Alec. I came to talk to Alec.” He shuffled a little on the spot, holding onto his beverage as if it was a lifeline.

“Oh. Oh OK. Right, of course. Well. I’ll see you around then.” She awkwardly began to turn away, then turned back to wave half-heartedly.

“Yeah. See you.” He gave a nod in her direction, keeping his eyes on her hair, her neck, her ear, anything but her eyes.

Clary smiled sadly and left, looking hurt. It broke his heart.

“Ouch. Even I felt that.”

Simon turned back to Alec. “I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t even know how I feel about her anymore.”

“Ignoring her won’t help either of you,” he pointed out, ever so wise.

“I can’t just go on like nothing happened. She was an accomplice to attempted murder!” Simon caught himself, and looked around, to see if anyone had heard them, but no heads were turned in their direction.

Alec raised an eyebrow. “And they thought you were an accomplice to a heavy criminal.”

“They can’t just go around pretending to be the executioners of the law!”

“They are. In the Downworld, they are.” Alec said calmly. “There's nothing we can do about it.”

“About that, no.” Simon calmed down, his anger dying out, and left was a bunch of anxiety and uncertainty. He bit his lip. “But I keep thinking to myself, if maybe I cut Clary out she will see how wrong it was?”

Alec shook his head slowly. “I don’t think ending your friendship is the way.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Simon finally took back his credit card and the receipt Alec had been holding outstretched for quite a while. Alec motioned for him to come around, and Simon wasted no time walking to the other side. He immediately sat down in his designated corner, his hands around his cup. “Do you think there will be war?” Simon asked. He knew Alec thought about the exact same thing. “Now that Raphael has returned to the Hotel, do you think he will declare war? What would that even mean for us? Mundanes?”

Alec sighed, and let his shoulder slump, if only for a second. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “He said he wouldn’t when he left, but I don’t know. I can’t really blame him if he does.” He shrugged.

“But war…”

“War, indeed.” Alec sighed. “Hopefully, he’ll think the same way. He doesn’t seem like the war favouring type.”

“I hope you’re right. War would be bad. But what else can he do for retribution?”

“I’m not sure he wants retribution. You haven't known him as long as I have Simon, and I haven't known him long, but I don’t think he cares about that.”

Simon furrowed his brow. “Then what?”

Alec shrugged once more. “I don’t know. He’s planning something, but what I don’t know.”

Simon shook his head. “How did everything become so complicated?”

“Become? This is my entire life.” Alec gestured around himself, 

Simon smiled. “I do not envy your life then.”

A small chuckle escaped Alec’s lips. “You shouldn’t.”

Suddenly a thought struck Simon, and he suddenly felt very cold. “You said Raphael said he wouldn’t start a war?”

“He promised actually.”

“I’m just thinking, he didn’t say the clan wouldn't start a war?”

Alec tensed. “No…?”

“Because if he doesn’t, Lily might.”

They ponder that in silence for a while. Then they unanimously decided to leave that alone and instead talk about other things: small burst of words that interrupted the silence every now and then. Eventually, as the clock ticked closer to noon, more and more customer showed up, and Alec was joined by two other employees. As they took up all the available space, and Simon was forced to leave. He could feel Alec’s eyes on his back as he walked away. He let his feet steer him to a table in a corner. Not thinking about it further he slumped down into it with his second cup and a muffin. He watched the people coming in, ordering and leaving again, and those who stayed. For them, this is just another Monday. For him, everything feels different- He can’t help but think about the way Raphael’s eyes had fluttered like the wings of a butterfly when he’d awoken for the first time since he first fell unconscious. When Raphael had looked at him, his eyes had been so beautiful, capturing and enthralling. Simon had held his hand loosely, careful to not hurt him. At that moment Simon had realised how young Raphael looked. How innocent. He had always thought of Raphael as so much older than him because of how he acted and dressed, but no that he looked at him, he realised he couldn't be more than a year older than Simon, at most. He might even be younger. It had almost broken Simon’s heart right then and there. But he had kept holding his hand even as Raphael had fallen back into unconsciousness, and held for hours after. He’d held it when Alec came home and crashed into bed, he’d held it as he himself eventually couldn't stay awake anymore. He’d held it when Alec had awoken him and ushered him into his bedroom to get some sleep, promising to watch Raphael now. When Simon had awoken late that night, Raphael had been gone.

_________________

 

Alec watched Simon walk away, an invisible tail between his legs, posture hunched, and his energy so low Alec winced mentally at the change. If a man had ever looked more like a kicked puppy than Simon did at that moment Alec would eat his metaphorical hat. His brows drew nearer as he realised wich table Simon sat down at. He didn’t seem to notice it himself, but it was impossible for Alec not to recognise Raphael’s old table. He had been avoiding that very table for weeks after all. Alec sighed. What a shitstorm he’d managed to walk into. Sometimes it felt like it was constructed to mess with him; Isabelle’s offer still swam around in his mind, together with images of Raphael’s burnt body, Simon’s hurt eyes as he’d yelled at Clary, Jace’s golden ones when he’d held his sword an inch from Alec’s throat, Magnus when his face had contorted with confusion at hearing his own name.

Alec mentally shrugged off the thoughts. Now was not the time. But as he served another customer in the forming queue he decided he would, again, have to be the mature one here. He’d have to talk to Clary, set up a meeting. Fix some kind of peace treaty and try to mend some of the broken bonds. 

 

_____

 

 

Simon stared at his phone. It was around two in the morning, and the city was calming down. In a couple of hours, the city would be dark, and dead. Only to wake up again the second the sun started climbing up. The summer was coming to an end, but the heat lingered like a thick blanket over London, smothering its citizens and forcing everyone to keep the fans turned on day and night. After another family dinner with Simon’s mum and sister, he’d sneaked off to his room and spent a few hours trying not to think too much, his eyes glued on his computer and headphones muffling all sounds of the real world. But then came the dreaded night, and as predicted, Simon laid awake. Thinking. He couldn’t stop it. How did one turn off their brain? 

He’d carefully snuck out when he admitted to himself that there was no chance of him falling asleep in the coming hours. He’d decided to walk around, something he used to do a lot when he was younger; when he’d gotten past the initial paralyzing grief after his dad had died, but before he’d found enough peace to sleep soundly again. And so he walked and walked, his mind wandering, jumping from subject to subject, sometimes a breeze and at other times a small storm. But he kept, unsurprisingly, coming back to one thing. By this point, Simon couldn't really deny that he was slightly obsessed with Raphael. Well. Depending on your definition of slightly. 

Simon kept staring at his phone. At his screen, at his contacts, at Raphael’s number. His thumb had already hovered over the call button 5 times. A sudden breeze cooled his blushed face, and he had pressed down before he even realised he’d decided to. Suddenly panicked and unsure he held the phone to his ear, biting nervously on the nail of his thumb. 

One, two, three… six… the signals kept going unanswered. Simon had started pulling down his phone to end the call, disappointment coiling in his stomach, when he'd heard Raphael's voice calling out.

“Uh, hi,” he hurriedly blurted out, trying to wipe off the sweat of his other hand on his thigh. “It’s Simon. Which you probably know since you have my number, and if you didn’t then you’d probably recognize my voice, and by now you would know because of my blabbering. And I told you my name already so there that and-”

“What?” Raphael's voice cut through his rambling, and Simon just knew his eyebrows were halfway up his forehead in exasperation. 

“What what?” he asked innocently.

“What do you want? Why did you call?”

“Oh, It’s nothing really.” Simon could feel his cheeks heating up. Asking Raphael how he’s feeling seemed like an impossibility when actually faced with him. Well. ‘Faced’ with.

“You called at 2.am for no reason?”

“Well, I mean I had a reason, it’s just not one I think you would deem... reasonable.”

A loud sigh was heard over the line. “Why Simon?”

“Because… I wanted to know how you’re doing. I kinda watched you almost die, and then stayed with you for hours on end when you slowly healed, and yeah. I wanna know if you’re OK.”

“And you want to know this so badly you call at 2.am?” Despite the biting tone, his voice was somehow softer than it had been before and it made Simon feel … good.

“Well yeah… And I couldn’t sleep.”

There was a small sigh, but his tone was soft and soothing when he quietly said: “I’m OK, mundane.”

It stirred something in Simon, and he felt an acute need to ignore the feeling and gripped at the first thing that came to his mind. “You know, you used my name earlier so I know you know it.”

“... Mundane.”

A grin spread over Simon’s face and he rolled his eyes. “Oh, now you’re just being evil.”

“It’s a speciality,” Raphael said, his amusement discernible in his voice.

Simon chuckled. “You certainly got the evil aura down.”

They stayed silent for a while, a companionable silence. But eventually, Raphael broke it.

“Are you satisfied now that you know that I’m completely fine?”

Simon felt his face fall. He didn’t want to hang up. “I guess I mean… Yeah?”

“You still won’t go to sleep.” It wasn’t a question, but Simon felt obliged to confirm it anyway.

“No.”

The was a short silence, followed by a sigh. “Do you know of the Hunter’s moon?” he asked, almost reluctantly.

“Nope.”

“It’s a Downworlder pub. It’s run by werewolves, but they are professional. Mostly,” he added under his breath.

“You… wanna meet me. Like actually hang out?” Simon’s eyebrow might have climbed so high they were actually hidden in his hairline now.

“Don’t make me regret it mundane.”

“I would never,” he joked, but added in a more serious tone: “Where is it?”

Raphael quickly gave him instructions and finished the call. Simon wasted no time and hopped on the first best bus to get there. It didn’t take long, but Simon spent the entire time fidgeting nervously, checking over and over again Raphael's text with the address. When he stepped off the bus he looked around wildly, trying to spot either Raphael or the Hunter’s Moon.

“Mundane.”

Simon jumped, his heart beating loudly in his chest, but his fear gave away fast when he recognised the voice. He turned to greet the vampire. “Raphael, uh, you scared me.”

“I know,” he smirked. “It’s this way.” Raphael walked backwards a few steps before turning and leading Simon into a small alley he’d never seen before. It was a little shabby, but to Simon, it felt magical. He spotted several stores that could not be anything but downworldly, judging by their names and looks. Simon turned his eyes to Raphael; he was wearing a simple black suit, a dark purple button-down underneath. The suit, as all of Raphael's suits, perfectly showed off his broad shoulders and narrower waist. Simon glimpsed a sliver of skin between his collar and hair, and he had the stranges of urges to put his hand there, hold Raphael’s neck, and feel the soft skin there. He snapped out of it.

“Will they, you know, serve me? Do they serve mundanes?” Simon nervously adjusted his glasses.

“They won’t be serving you, they’ll be serving me.”

“Oh.”

Raphael pulled the door open and gestured for Simon to enter. When they walked in Raphael kept a hand on Simon’s lower back, guiding him. The sensation sent chills down his body and Simon had to bite his cheek not to outright shiver.

The pub was nice, maybe not the fanciest place, but in many ways similar to The Roadhouse. It was small, lit up with soft yellow and neon red, with people walking around, sitting and generally looking rather content. He tried not to stare when he noticed a girl walking by with rounded horns on the side of her head like a ram. Once he noticed her, he saw more and more signs of the Downworld all around him. A man at the bar drank something that most definitely looked like blood, at one of the booths he saw a person with tattoed wines moving over their face, and when he met the eyes of the dark-skinned girl behind the bar, her eyes glowed green. 

Raphael guided him past all of this, past a pool table, to the back of the pub and gently pushed Simon down into a half-hidden booth.

“Stay here. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t draw any attention. I’m already in enough trouble as it is. What do you want?”

Simon’s eyes immediately wandered from Raphael's face to his chest, and then immediately back up when he realised what he’d done. “What.”

“To drink. What do you want?”

Simon blushed. “Oh, eh anything works. Beer.”

“Beer? Dios.” He rolled his eyes and walked away, and if Simon’s eyes strayed further down than they probably should have, then no one could blame him. Honestly. Raphael was built like a god, and that included his ass. Simon watched as he walked up to the bartender and ordered something. She didn’t look happy to serve him, but she did. Once she’d placed two drinks in front of Raphael, she cast a glance at Simon, and he got the distinct feeling that she knew exactly who he was.

Raphael walked back, the two glasses elegantly held in his hand. (seriously, was everything he did elegant?) The glass he placed in front of Simon did most certainly not consist of beer. The glass in front of Raphael did most certainly consist of blood. 

Raphael gestured to Simon’s glass. “Try it.”

Simon carefully sniffed the drink. “What is it?”

“Just try it, mundane. If I haven't hurt you by now, I won’t.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Simon distrustfully regarded the glass, before looking up and meeting the raised eyebrow of Raphael. “The last time I drank something I wasn’t sure about I ended up with one of the worst hangovers I’ve ever had. And I don’t even like being drunk.”

“You won’t be after one glass,” Raphael argued, but then stopped himself. He let his head fall forward and when he looked back up, his face looked serene and his voice was soft. “Simon, you don’t have to. But I think you’ll like it. I can make sure you won't get drunk if you want me to.”

“Can you get drunk?” Simon cocked his head to the side.

“Yes.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “This can make me drunk in larger quantities,” he said and gestured to his glass, “and concentrated plasma will do that too.”

“Is that not just normal blood?” Simon pointed to the glass of red liquid.

“Not quite. Blood taken from an intoxicated human.” As if to demonstrate Raphael picked up the glass and sipped.

“Huh.” Simon took a sip from his own misty drink. The taste had him choking. It was… amazing. “That’s…” 

“I know,” Raphael smirked. “But not too often, you tire fast of the taste.”

Simon took another sip, and for one he actually enjoyed the taste of alcohol. He hummed in contentment, and stole a glance at Raphael, also sipping from his glass. Simon gathered his courage. “I know I already asked you, but, are you sure you’re OK?”

Raphael looked at him a little startled. He slowly put down his glass and Simon could see his face harden. He was already mentally preparing himself for some sort of snap, when Raphael’s shoulder’s sagged and he smiled sadly instead. “No. No, I’m not.”

Simon blinked, and quickly brushed his surprise aside. “You can tell me.”

“I know.” Raphael caught his eyes and held them for a moment, before looking down and clasping his hands. “Physical damage heal fast for us. But… the pain lingers. The… fear. I can’t sleep, I can hardly work. Lily won’t leave me alone, and I can’t stand the whispers whenever I walk past.” His eyes flickered up to Simon's as if to check he was still listening.

“What do you mean?”

“Rumours. I swear dying turns everyone into a gossip.” He chuckled humourlessly.

“I’m sorry.”

Raphael sighed. “I am too, baby.”

“Did Alec tell you about the- the thing?”

“The gathering? Yeah.”

Simon sought his eyes, but when he caught them the intensity was too much and he felt himself look away. His cheeks burned knowing that Raphael was still looking at him. “Will you come?” he asked, almost timidly.

Raphael smiled. “Will I agree to meet the man who tried to murder me, together with his accomplice, with no backup?”

“Yeah?”

He turned his head to the side as if he was considering it, but then a cold grin spread over his face. “Most likely.”

“Really?”

“War is bad for everyone. If my people land a blow to the Nephilim they bleed and they hurt and maybe they heal. If they land one blow in the right place to my people, we disintegrate. Not even a body left to bury. My clan could be decimated. If being a human marshmallow is what it takes to spare them that, then yeah. I’ll go.”

Chills spread up and down Simon’s arms, and he couldn’t help but be awed at the person sitting opposite him. “That makes my reason not to seem kinda bad.”

“You’re aren't going?” Raphael raised an eyebrow.

“I probably will now, you kinda changed my mind,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you want to go in the first place?”

“Hurt feelings I guess.” Simon shrugged. “With my best friend lying to me for months, ignoring me and then proceeding to attack my other friend...”

“Who was the friend?”

Simon froze. Slowly he managed to raise his eyes to Raphael. “... you.”

Both of Raphael’s eyebrows shot into the air. “Friends?”

“Uh I mean we don’t have to be I just kinda thought-”

“Alright,” he said, putting down his glass. A smile played on his lips, and when he looked at Simon, he could almost see fondness in his deep eyes.

“Really?”

“Why not?”

_________________

 

 

 

Raphael listened to Alec walking around in his kitchen. He was nervous, he could smell it a mile away. Not that Raphael judged, he hadn’t been this twitchy in decades. Raphael didn’t fidget. He was an immortal vampire of almost a hundred years, he worked directly under the feared Camille Belcourt. He did not fidget. He did, however, come very close to the definition, as he twirled his glass of wine round and round, unable to stop himself, as the slow movement of the red liquid calmed him. Or at least it stopped him from jumping up from the couch and running home and locking himself in his suite. 

And if the noises Alec was making in the kitchen were any indication, he felt similarly: the hopeless sighing, the opening and closing of cupboards, moving around glasses. Looking through the fridge, over and over and over again.

The first new thing to break the monotony of their situation was a knock on the door. Raphael chastised himself for not noticing the new guest before the knocking, he should’ve heard them good and well beyond Alec’s apartment door. But then again, his senses had been a bit off ever since the… incident. He was overly sensitive at times and almost numb at others. It was thoroughly disturbing, and a pain in the ass to hide from the other vampires. They didn’t even know what had happened. And they wouldn’t if Raphael had any say in the mater. Yes, it was his clan. Most of them he considered family. But that didn’t mean that he was safe in his position. If they smelled weakness, he might be forced to do something he didn’t want to. Hence: the secrecy. And wasn’t that very vampire-y of him.

Alec opened the door and Raphael immediately knew who it was. The smell travelled all the way to Raphael, carried by a slight breeze that had been let into the apartment by the opening of the door. He heard them talk in low and serious tones, but decided to stay in his spot on the couch. He would come to him soon enough anyway. And so Raphael waited, took a small sip of his wine (he brought his own, obviously) and relaxed his face and posture. Appearances were everything after all. 

Simon walked into the living room and stood there blinking for a while. It took Raphel a while to remember that the lights were off. He forgot sometimes, he didn’t need them. Taking pity on Simon he reached to his side and flicked on the floor lamp standing there. It emitted a soft light, and Simon’s eyes were drawn to Raphael like a moth to a flame.

“Hi…”

“Hello, baby,” Raphael purred, solely for the reason to see that blush spread over Simon’s cheeks.

“You’re already here?” he asked awkwardly, shuffling around a little on the spot.

“Evidently.”

“Right. Sorry. It’s just, like more than half an hour left.”

“I was two hours early.”

“Two?”

He cocked his head to the side. “I’m not eager to take any risks.”

“Right. Understandable. So. Any idea of how we’re gonna do this?”

“No.”

“That’s assuring.”

“I know,” he said, smirking up at Simon standing there awkwardly shuffling his feet from one position to another, still blushing slightly. “I had hoped you would stay by my side tonight.”

Simon nodded so hard his glasses almost flew off his nose. “Yeah definitely, they wronged, you have my full support.”

Raphael smiled. “I meant literally.”

“Oh. Like. Sitting next to you?” Simon gestured towards the sofa Raphael was sitting in. Raphael took way to much pleasure in slowly inclining his head.

“Alec will have to take the role as a mediator. And I would rather not be in a physical position of me alone versus them, even if that is the true situation.”

“I get that. Um. Ok. I’ll stick by you.”

“Thank you.”

Simon blushed.

Raphael could hear Alec’s phone buzzing, and when he started moving towards the hallway, he knew that must have been a warning. It could only be of one thing. Simon noticed his change and looked out of the room to see what had happened, but came to a similar conclusion as Raphael, and moved over and sat down in the two-man couch next to him. A part of Raphael relaxed at that, another part refused to admit that feeling; refused vehemently. 

The door opened, and Raphael could smell them as they entered… No. Something was wrong. There were three of them. Three new smells, three new shadowhunters. He gripped his glass harder and stayed in his position, his legs crossed, leaning back casually. Appearances were everything, especially tonight. He took a breath, calming himself, and let his hand feel the shape of his mother’s cross hanging under his buttoned-up shirt. Feeling the sting against his chest, he let go, relaxed his face, shared a quick look with Simon and got ready to greet his abusers.

Alec stepped in first, unsurprisingly. He was on edge and obviously not very anxious to let the others into the room, but eventually he did step further in and allowed them to enter behind him. Clary came second, her alarmingly red hair in locks around her pretty face and hanging over her petite frame. She had dressed down slightly, wearing a green jacket and a normal T-shirt. After her came the other man: Jace. He looked about as sour as Raphael felt, and hadn’t dressed down in the slightest. As expected. They stood like that for an awkward second or two until Jace gestured for the third Shadowhunter to enter the room. Raphael already knew she would be something extra, her smell sensual and intoxicating in an artificial kind of way. Her perfume smelled a whole lot better than Camille’s, he’d give her that. 

Simon sucked in his breath loudly when he saw her, and Raphael agreed. She was gorgeous. Her hair raven like Alec’s, in locks down her back. She was short but clearly fit, with curves Raphael knew Lily would kill for. Her heels clicked as she stepped forward, her hips swinging and her smile deadly. Raphael could only wonder how people who actually felt attracted to her would cope with that smile directed at them. If Simon’s quick breaths and speeding heart was any indicator, not very well. But Raphael only smiled back. She was stunning, but so were a lot of people.

“My name is Isabelle Lightwood. I’m Jace’s brother. Thought I’d come along, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. Again. You can call me Izzy.”

“Izzy. I appreciate you keeping your brother in check, although I would have preferred it had been done sooner. But, however, you are already breaking the terms of this meeting. I agreed not to bring any of my own, yet you do. You already outnumber me, you must see that this doesn’t exactly set the best mood for our… negotiations.”

“I understand, I do. And I am sorry we didn’t inform you sooner, but it seemed to be the best solution.”

“Hmm.” Raphael twirled his glass once, making sure it looked like he was contemplating. Of course, he had no choice in the matter. He couldn’t bring in anyone without risking a war, as everyone he trusted were more likely to rip the throats out of the Nephilim than make peace with them. He locked eyes with Izzy, assessing her. Feeling confident that she did not show any signs of wanting to attack him, he turned to Alec. He gave a minuscule nod and that was enough for Raphael. He put a careful hand on Simon’s knee, effectively bringing him back from whatever dreams he had been entertaining. He looked at Raphael in alarm, then at his hand on his knee and then back to Izzy and later Clary. Raphael could feel his temperature rising under his hand, and he pulled it back slightly amused. He nodded for the hunters to sit down. Izzy took her seat on the armchair closest to Raphael, sitting almost directly across from him, and Clary took a seat in the other armchair, closer to Simon. Neither Alec nor Jace made any sign that they intended to grab more chairs, and remained standing. Jace with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed and his legs a bit apart, looking ready as ever. Alec leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as well but looked nervous more than anything. 

“You know I have to ask Alec to take any weapons from you. You may keep your steles, but any swords or blades must be removed.”

“You scared?” Jace uttered in a pathetic attempt at riling him. But Raphael had expected that from the Shadowhunter and came prepared.

“Of course. I’m outnumbered, and still recovering from almost dying again. I would be a fool not to recognise the threat that you pose. You can match my strength with your runes, and most likely your skills in battle exceeds mine. You tried to kill me, of course I’m scared.”

“Jace. Just do it.” The man huffed and looked unhappy, but did as his sister wanted. A sword, two daggers and three smaller blades were pulled from his belt, his boots, his vest and back, even one of his thighs. Izzy herself laid off two small blades and her bracelet (interesting, what exactly does that do?) and Clary had none. To reciprocate the gesture Raphael allowed Alec to pat him down, and as he already knew, Alec came up empty-handed. With those formalities over, they sat down again. Izzy crossed her legs, and Raphael got a chance to admire her heels before he had to focus on the task at hand once more.

“From what I’ve been told, there are quite a few things we need to set straight. Jace and Clary went after you without permission from the Clave due to a rumour that you hold subjugates. Let’s address this first. Do you?”

“No.”

“Then what’s with the rumours? We haven't heard much about you before, until this. Something like that doesn’t just spark out of nothing,” she reasoned, and Raphael's jaw clenched. 

“That would be my fault,” Simon spoke up, and Raphael discretely let out a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t have mentioned it on his own, not wanting to blame Simon. “After I was told about Raphael's true nature, I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I sneaked into the Hotel-”

“You did what!? Simon!?” Clary abruptly stood from her armchair, and Jace simultaneously took a menacing step forward. 

Simon looked at them in alarm, bringing his hands out in a calming gesture. “I’m fine. Raphael saved me. He found me first and-” He sighed.” He protected me. It was just an act, he never fed on me, and he hasn’t since either,” he hurried to clarify.

Raphael put his hand on Simon to calm him. “We started the rumour to keep Simon safe, should he be stupid enough to enter the hotel again. Vampires never touch another's subjugate, it’s considered about the same as a direct challenge, a direct insult.”

“You knowingly put yourself in our crosshairs to protect Simon. You don’t even know him.” Clary stated, sounding begrudgingly impressed. Raphael felt his eyebrow twitch.

“I know Simon better than you think. Besides, if a mundane had died by my people’s hands, we would have broken the Accords, and we would have been hunted still. This way I could protect them too, from themselves, and from you.”

“That’s very noble of you,” she said, and awkwardly sat down again.

“It’s not about being noble. I protect my family. That’s something you understand, is it not?” Raphael said, turning to Izzy. 

“We do.” She cast a glance at her brother standing behind her like a guard dog. She seemed to make up her mind and turned back to Raphael. “Then, until we have proof of your guilt, you are officially no longer a suspect of ours.”

Raphael sipped from his glass, and mentally applauded himself. That was the easy part done at least. “Next I believe we should address your attempt on my life.”

“Jace?” Izzy turned to her brother once more.

“We did what we thought was right. I can’t be sorry about that. Most rumours we hear of are true and if there was even a single chance that we could have saved someone innocent, that’s a risk I’m willing to take. I can’t apologise for taking it.”

“Jace…” Clary chastised, But Jace stood proudly.

“I won’t apologise for doing what I thought was right.”

“I see.” Raphael understood where he was coming from, but in this current situation, he couldn’t afford to be understanding. “Then we have a problem.”

“So if Jace doesn’t …. Apologize, then what?” Alec asked when it got clear no one had a response to Raphael's statement.

“Raphael could let it go…” Clary suggested, looking doubtful and a bit ashamed for even suggesting it.

Izzy hummed, and added another alternative: ”Or he could take it up before the Clave.”

“Or he could start a war,” Alec added with a tone of finality.

”Or he could do that, yes,” Izzy confirmed, “but that’s what we’re trying to avoid here.”

“So what does it mean for him to go before the Clave?” Simon inquired.

“How much do you know of our world, mundane?” she asked, but she said it almost as if she was amused by him, letting her red lips turn into a captivating smile. 

“Not much,” Simon said shrugging, “but I’m good at absorbing information.”

“The Clave is like an organisation, and one of its main purposes is to judge. Anyone can come before the clave and demand a trial, and the Clave is then obligated to hear this person and conduct a trial according to this person’s demands. This trial is much like your equivalent, mundane. Raphael can accuse Jace of attempted murder on innocent. Jace would be tried by the Clave, and if deemed guilty, would receive punishment.”

“And Raphael?”

“He would also be investigated. For Jace to receive full punishment, Raphael has to prove he was absolutely innocent. If he can’t do that then… Jace could get off easier, or…” she faltered, and her smile fell.

“Or Raphael would be put on trial as well.” Simon finished for her.

“Either way, going before the Clave is not pleasant. For anyone. If we can settle this here, everyone would be better off.”

“The Clave… consists of Shadowhunters?”

“Yes.” Izzy inclined her head.

“And it was founded by Shadowhunters?”

“Yes?”

“And this organisation is the entire law system of the Downworld?”

Raphael could pinpoint the moment the shadowhunter realised where he was going and watched as she prepared her verbal defence.“Yes but-”

“One race, I assume I can say race right, because you actually are, are in control of the law and protection system concerning at least four species beyond their own, as far as I know.” Simon barreled on, and Raphael couldn't stop the proud little smirk that formed on his lips. “And this is the species that used to hunt and kill the others. For sport. That doesn’t sound rigged at all. Or biased. Or anything.”

“It’s the way it is Simon. It’s a good deal better than it used to be.”

“Our system is more advanced than yours, and you’re supposed to be the more advanced species. You’re supposed to be angelic. But you use a system based off of prejudice and privilege. I might have gotten this wrong so please do correct me.”

Raphael was used to being treated with prejudice, both as a human and later as a vampire. He had heard many degrading slurs during his years, but never once in all that time had he actually seen the holier than thou half-angels actually look embarrassed by their system and actions. He took the moment to simply enjoy himself and tried to etch it into memory as he doubted they would take too kindly if he snapped a picture.

“You are right. The system is stacked in our favour. But we can’t change that,” Izzy finally conceded, looking appropriately humbled.

“If Raphael goes before the Clave, what do you think they’ll do to him? Be honest.”

She sighed. “Simon...”

Instead of letting her continue, Jace intervened. “They’ll arrest him, start an investigation. During it, he’ll be interrogated. One way or another he’ll get hurt. Might get half-starved too. He’ll be kept away from his people, and his people will be interrogated too. The rumours will be followed to their origin, every single piece of evidence scrutinised. He won’t walk away unharmed. Even if he has no subjugates, he will still be deemed as a danger to mundanes, because he spent time with you mundie. Most likely he’ll receive some kind of restraint. There are spells to trap people in place, they have been used by the Clave before. See it as an extreme version of house arrest.”

Simon thought it over, his face grave. “And you?”

“They’d make an example out of me. No one goes against the law, and no shadowhunter ever goes against the Clave. They’d take me out of service, probably have me on clean-up duty, pull me back to Idris. In five years maybe they’d reassign be back out, and in another few I'd be back on duty.”

“So what you’re saying is that whatever happens, you’ll be fine, and he’d be fucked?”

“Simon!” 

Alec threw a look in Clary’s direction and efficiently shut her up. “That’s exactly what he’s saying.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Izzy pleaded, her big brown eyes directed first at Raphael, but when he got no response they turned to Simon. Raphael could practically hear the conflict in his head.

Alec pulled a hand over his face, rubbing at it tiredly.

_______

“... some kind of contract then? Promise to never again go after him? There must be some kind of unbreakable vow, right?”

“Not the time for Harry Potter references, Simon,” Clary chastised tiredly.

“I’m not referencing, it’s the only term I knew that could describe what I was after!” Simon half-shouted, his arms flailing with his emotions.

“You don’t have to shout!” she countered.

“You don’t have to treat me like a baby, Clary, I’m not an idiot! I’m not pulling pop-culture references for kicks at the moment, this is my vocabulary, you don’t have to like it!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!

“Please!” Izzy interrupted. The constant bickering had started to go on her nerves, her collected facade had started crumbling, and while her makeup was as flawless as ever it had started to look a bit stale on her face.

“I would never enter a blood contract with a vampire. And if we got called out on a mission, what would I do exactly, excuse myself?” Jace bit back harshly. Raphael took another sip. He had almost emptied the entire bottle.

“I. Don’t. Care.” Simon countered with just as much force. Truly, Raphael was flattered.

Alec let his head roll back and just looked silently at the ceiling for a moment. He returned to the present only to reach forward from his position half sitting on the armrest of Clary’s old armchair. He pulled over the coffee pot and refilled his cup for the third time this night. He glanced at Clary where she nervously paced the room, but she made no sigh to sit down so he leaned back with his coffee and a silent sigh.

___________

“Raphael.” Izzy's voice called out to for the first time since he’d gone silent at the beginning of the negotiations. He looked at her and found quite a bit of despair in her tired eyes. “Please, talk to us. Tell us what you want,” she pleaded.

Raphael looked at her. He was used to feeling spite, and anger and pettiness. He wasn’t used to being able to express it. Who would have thought this day would be so therapeutic? “No,” he said, hiding his smirk behind his last glass of wine.

“Fuck this, let’s just go back to the institute, we’ve spent hours on this for nothing. If he goes to the Clave, then so be it. I don’t have time for this shit,” Jace said and rolled his shoulders and looked generally ready to leave.

Raphael saw it as his cue. “I’ll talk to you. Not to them,” he said, directing his attention towards Izzy. He might enjoy making her life difficult, but he knew she was his best chance in these negotiations.

“What?”

“I don’t trust them. I don’t trust you either, but then you haven't tried to kill me,” he reasoned.

Jace groaned, annoyed. “Stop milking that already.”

Izzy ignored him and turned to Raphael, there was hope in her eyes. “Let’s talk then.”

“They don’t talk.” Raphael clarified, not dignifying Clary or Jace with a single look.

“Simon stays out of it too.”

“Hey!” Simon was halfway out of the sofa when Raphel reached and placed a hand distractedly on his arm, and he immediately relaxed and slumped back down.

“Deal,” he said to Izzy. 

She took a moment to collect her herself. “What do you want?”

Raphael put down his glass for the first time this night. “The sunshine that burned me was caused by blowing a hole into the wall of the Hotel. I want you to cover the sum to repair it.”

Izzy nodded. “Reasonable, agreed.”

“The fire that came from my exposure to sunlight also destroyed my suit, you can check if you want, but it held a worth of about $ 2,500 pounds. I want that covered as well.”

“Doable, I will need to check it.”

Raphael mentally ticked off his demands one by one. “In the time I was recovering on Alec’s couch I missed two meetings and several work hours. I want my wage for the missing hours compensated, as well as another sum to offer the second parties who’s meetings were cancelled due to me being incapacitated.”

Izzy thought about it for a while but nodded in the end. “Fine.”

Raphael's hand momentarily sneaked towards his neck, but he managed to redirect it so he instead adjusted his collar. “That covers the financial part of my demands. I also need a signed and legal document that states that you were wrong in pursuing me without sufficient evidence, for personal use.”

“That sounds an awful lot like an apology.” Jace gruff voice interrupted.

“Jace. You say one more word and I’ll personally drag you before mother,” Izzy snapped. She gave him a threatening stare, and only when he took a step back did she turn back to Raphael. “It can be done, but we’re gonna need some kind of insurance that you’ll never use it in any public or official setting. You can under no circumstance bring it before the Clave or use it to rally other downworlders.”

Raphael could feel Simon bristle beside him, and morally he agreed with him, tactically however he understood the half-angels' reasonings. “I’ll provide insurance.”

“Then we’ll have the document printed and signed by... Jace and Clary, and someone who can make it legally binding.” Izzy faltered momentarily before uttering the names of her brother and friend.

“Lastly, I need something to bring back to my people. So far everything I’ve asked for has been entirely reasonable, I’ve only asked you to compensate for expenses we had to put out thanks to your interference, and the document as a well earned apology.” Raphael caught Izzy’s, Clary's and Jace’s eyes separately, to further his point. “Now, however, I need to ask for more. There are already rumours festering in my absence, the truth will get out sooner or later. If I can maintain my position, I can contain it to the Hotel. The problem is, if I fold in these negotiations, it will be seen as a sign of weakness, not diplomacy. My family is dear to me, but they will not tolerate a weakling in my position. And if my suitability is questioned I might be forced to do things I’d rather not to maintain said position. If I were to lose it, it would be bad for everyone, me, my clan, and you. Do you really think that there’s been no reason I’ve managed to stay under your radar until now? I respect the laws and the Accords and know the value of diplomacy and compromises. I keep Camille in check. Are you really prepared to have someone else take over as her right hand?”

Izzy folded. “What do you need?”

“I need you to drop the investigation of the December Battles.” Raphael had barely uttered it before he felt the joined force of the Nephilims' disapproval.

“We don’t have that kind of power.” Izzy gritted out, her eyes cold.

“Your mother is the Head of the London Institute.”

She pondered that for a while. “Why?”

“My people were stupid, and I have already made sure that they have received suitable punishments. Let them go,” Raphael pleaded. He was too close to give up now.

“... And if we fix that, together with the apology and the money…?”

“I’ll forget everything about this,” he promised solemnly.

Izzy shared a look with her two companions. Clary nodded, Jace grunted. It seemed to be enough, because she turned back with a raised eyebrow. “You’d take an oath on that?”

“I’d take an oath to keep it a secret from everyone but a chosen few, yes,” he confirmed.

Izzy nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements for the transactions. Would you be willing to meet again to sort out the paperwork?”

“I would, yes.”

Izzy smiled, maybe the first genuine one of the entire night. “This is the part where I ask for your number.”

Raphael smiled back. He found he didn’t mind giving it to her. She was a fierce leader, one of the only agreeable Nephilims he’d met. He wouldn’t mind terribly if their paths were to cross again. “Then you shall have it,” he said, holding out a card for her to take.

__________

 

“I can’t believe it actually worked,” Simon muttered, looking at Alec where he sat on the floor next to him. They were leaning against a wall, both utterly exhausted. Outside the world had started brightening. In less than an hour, the sun would go up.

“I’m with you on that.” Alec agreed, looking wrung out.

Simon held up his glass of water to Alec. “Cheers?”

“Cheers,” Alec repeated, carefully letting his cup touch Simon’s glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this chapter never ended... Ugh. Yeah anyway. Good news for anyone reading this, we have a clear end in sight now. We're well past half, thank god. Have I said this? I'm too lazy to check. Have a good one with this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Work written by two overly excited Swedish fans!! More to come! Comments and critique appreciated. (More like needed)


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